After you
by Castielific
Summary: When Derek Hale - one of the only survivors of the family responsible for his mother's death - comes back to Beacon Hills, Stiles decides to avenge his mom's death and prove to Chris Argent that he has what it takes to become a great hunter. He just wishes that there was a Wikipedia article on how to catch a werewolf.
1. Prologue

4th November 2005

That day wasn't going to be anything special.

Stiles was ten years old at the time, and he was supposed to go shopping for shoes with his mother after school. In fact, he was supposed to do so the day before. And the day before that. And the day before that. But Stiles hated shopping and had been able to postpone it all week.

He didn't even understand what was wrong with his actual shoes. Sure, there was a hole near his big toe, but he thought that it gave him more street cred. He hated when his shoes were new and white and shiny and he had to keep them clean. In fact, the first thing he usually did with new shoes was to jump in the mud and dirt.

Shoes weren't mean to be that clean.

Sadly, his mother never understood that.

Anyway, going shoe shopping that day? There was no way it was going to happen. Plus, Scott's dad had just sent him the newest and coolest game, Guitar Hero, and there was no way Stiles was missing his chance to try it.

Sadly, his sound reasoning didn't seem to persuade his mom. His pestering did though. He had been telling her about Guitar Hero and how important it was that he played it that night with Scott since the moment he woke up that morning. He even sat in front of the bathroom door like he was holding a siege while his mom was showering, just talking and talking and talking.

By the time Lisa stopped the car in front of the school that morning, she looked like she wanted to smash her head into the wheel.

"Okay! You won! No shoes tonight!"

"Yes!" Stiles couldn't help exulting triumphantly, throwing his hands in the air, accidentally smashing them into the roof of the car.

"But I'm coming to get you at seven and you better be ready to go. And Saturday," she added pointing him, "we're getting you new shoes. Saturday _morning_"

"What?!" he started protesting. "But mom, I promised Scott that we would go check out the new…"

"Tut tut, shoes. You will be checking out the new shoes on Saturday, or no Guitar Hero today, your choice".

"Okay," Stiles accepted grudgingly, grabbing his bag on the backseat. "But there will be a breakfast burrito."

"Yeah, right", his mom scoffed. "Cereal. And broccoli for dinner."

"What, no!"

"What, yes," she lightly mocked. "And the next time you try to manipulate me like this…"

"I wasn't…," Stiles started to deny the accusation, but his mother stopped him with a glare. "It was for a good cause! Guitar Hero is the coolest, mom!"

Lisa rolled her eyes, but couldn't keep a smile off her face.

"Kiss me goodbye, and go away", she said pointing toward the school entrance, pretending to be angry.

Stiles remembers hugging her that morning. His mom was awesome and he didn't care if Jackson saw it and teased him about it later. She ruffled his hair and kissed him on the cheek. He got out of the car and ran straight toward Scott, victorious, and bearing the good news.

He didn't look back.

Later, he'll wish he had. He'll wish he could have that last image of his mom in his head. That he would remember what she was wearing that day, or if her hair was loose or in a ponytail, or if she waved at him and he didn't see it. He will wish to remember her like she was on that exact morning. But try as he might, years later, when he'll tries to conjure her face in his mind, he can only envision her like a photograph. Frozen in time, lacking the personality and life that made his mom, _his mom_.

Sometimes, he thinks about how ironic it is that he can't remember his own mother's face, but he will never forget Melissa McCall's face when she hung up the phone that night.

His mother was late in picking him up, so Melissa had proposed that he stay for dinner. He knew his mom; he knew that she always felt guilty when she was late. The guilt of being nearly half an hour late to come get him would probably gets him curly fries for dinner, so he passed on the offer.

He was on the couch with Scott berating him because it was his turn to try and beat the song and Scott was refusing to give him the guitar, when the phone rang. Ms. McCall disappeared into the kitchen, reminding her son to play nice and share.

Stiles had just managed to wrangle the controller away when he heard a clattering noise from the kitchen which startled him, giving Scott the opportunity to tackle him and get the guitar back.

For a second, Stiles debated on whether he should continue to fight for the guitar, before he decided to go check on Ms. McCall instead.

When he arrived in the kitchen, she was standing near the sink, one hand on the counter for support and the other one covering her mouth.

"Are you okay, Ms. McCall?" Stiles inquired.

She looked up and there it was: the face he would never forget. The face he would always associate with that night. Her eyes were round, but her eyebrows were frowning like she was surprised and concentrating at the same time. She was biting her lower lip and breathing so hard he could see her nostrils flaring.

It was only when she wiped at her cheeks that Stiles noticed she was crying. Stiles first instinct was to approach her and to try to reassure her. Mr. McCall gave Scott great gifts, but he was really mean to Scott's mom ever since the divorce. Scott had told him that he could sometimes hear her crying at night, and was worried about it and wanted his dad to come back home. Stiles wasn't so sure that Mr. McCall coming home would make Scott's mom cry less, but he didn't say anything, because talking about it always made Scott sad.

He walked over to Ms. McCall and tried to hug her, because his dad always told him that he had to be a gentleman, and hugging moms was okay as long as Jackson wasn't around to mock him, but she put a hand on his shoulder to stop him. She squeezed really hard and leaned a little too much on him for a second before she crouched down to his level. For a few seconds, she just looked at him, opening and closing her mouth like she wanted to say something but couldn't remember how to talk.

That made Stiles very nervous. He suddenly realised that she didn't look like she wanted him to comfort _her_, she looked like she wanted to comfort him. She looked…sorry. She had that same look on her face that his dad had when he had run over Stiles' brand new bike, or Scott had when he confessed to trying to pet Muffin (Stiles' hamster) and then dropped him.

His ears started ringing before the words were out of Melissa's mouth. He felt that something was very very wrong and he didn't want to know what it was.

That was probably why, to this day, he couldn't remember exactly what she said to him.

All he remembered later was how his throat had hurt when he started screaming and sobbing at the same time, how he kept calling for his mom, knowing it was in vain. It would always be in vain now. He cried uninhibited like he did when he was a toddler: loud, wet and gross into Melissa's shoulder. She tried to comfort him, knowing it was hopeless, but never stopping, wiping his tears with the edge of her shirt even as they kept coming.

At one point, he stopped calling for his mom and started calling for his dad.

Why wasn't he there? Was he okay? Was he gone too? he asked. But the words were faint and unintelligible, his throat felt tight, like it was squeezing shut until he felt like he couldn't breathe anymore. He started panting, panic blocking the air from entering his lungs, making him gasp for air that didn't seem to exist anymore. He couldn't hear Ms. McCall's voice, he didn't want to hear her voice, he wanted his dad, he wanted his mom, he wanted this to not be real, he wanted to wake up, he wanted to know how to breathe again.

He'd never had a panic attack before. He had never felt hopeless before. It was, truly, the first time Stiles ever felt genuinely scared, like he was facing something that nobody could protect him from. It never really stopped after that.

"Genim Genim"

Stiles blinked, his terror abating at the sound of the voice he was searching for. He looked around, but he couldn't find him, he couldn't find his dad.

"Breathe, son. Come on, calm down"

"D...dad?"

Suddenly, air seemed to re-enter the room and he took a deep breath, clutching the phone against his ear.

"Are you okay, daddy?"

His voice was trembling, barely there, and when his father answered him, he realised his voice sounded as rough and worn as his was.

His dad tried to reassure him, promised him he would come as soon as possible, but that he couldn't be there right now. He tried to explain why, but Stiles didn't want to hear it, not on the phone. He wanted his dad right there, right now. He begged, kept asking him if he was okay and when he was coming and why he wasn't there, until the sheriff relented. He heard his dad tell something to someone and then he was promising he was coming right now. Stiles was still begging for his presence when his dad stopped trying to reassure him and just hung up, promising he was on his way. Stiles kept the phone clutched to the side of his face a few more seconds before he felt Ms. McCall caressing his cheek and taking the phone away.

It was only when he dropped his arm that he realised that Scott was plastered against his back, his arms wrapped tightly around his waist.

Ms. McCall tried to convince him to sit down on the couch to wait for his dad, Scott tried to guide him to his bedroom to calm down, but Stiles wouldn't hear any of it.

That's how he ended up wrapped up in a blanket, sitting on the doorstep of the McCall's house's porch.

Scott was dozing off, sitting more on him than on the step.

His friend had tried soothing him with his Nintendo DS, offered chocolate from his secret stash, and even tried petting his hair, but Stiles had ignored him. So now Scott was just kind of clinging to him like a giant octopus. It wasn't very comforting as Scott's elbow was in his stomach, but other things felt worse right now, so Stiles was clinging just as tightly to his friend.

He was looking at the road, waiting for his dad's car to appear, trying to make it appear by sheer will alone, when a sound made him jump. At first, it felt like it was coming from afar, but then it got louder and louder, until the sound seemed to be coming from everywhere at the same time.

A howl.

It sounded like one of those wolf howls in the movies, but it wasn't as scary. It wasn't scary at all, but rather heartbreaking. Somehow, that howl resonated in him. For a second, it felt like he could understand what this sound was trying to communicate.

Despair.

It was rough, like the wolf didn't have enough breath to hold the sound and was going to break out coughing at any second. It reminded Stiles of his father's voice on the phone and he tightened his hold on the blanket they were wrapped in, putting a hand on Scott's sleeping head, and shivered.

He looked at the sky, closed his eyes and imagined screaming like that.

Would it make him feel better? If he were to scream his emotions like that, would they disappear in thin air – bleed out of him and never come back? Was this what this wolf was trying to do?

He wiped a tear from his cheek and imagined himself howling with the wolf.

When the sound died down, Stiles felt strangely alone.

The first few weeks following the death of his mother were the worst of his life.

His mother was dead, another victim in the Hale house fire, a fire that had claimed nine lives.

The fire wasn't an accident, someone purposely burnt this house down with all those people in it, someone _killed _his mother and eight members of that family. By the time the firemen had arrived at the burning house, deep in the forest, they could only save one person. And that person wasn't his mother.

The thing was, nobody knew what she was doing out there, not even Stiles' dad.

Some people had decided that she was the odd one out, that her presence there was suspicious. The Hales themselves were a mystery, they always kept to themselves and while they were never viewed as bad people, they sure as hell didn't fit the Beacon Hills' mold.

People were suspicious and curious so instead of respecting the Stilinski family loss, the people of Beacon Hills focused on gossiping about the circumstances surrounding her death. And apparently Stiles was viewed as a prime source of this gossip. People either pitied him or seemed intrigued. It wasn't always obvious, of course. They would offer their condolences, ask him how he was, and only then would they start their not-so-subtle interrogation on Lisa's reason for being at that house, on that day.

The sheriff refused to entertain the possibility that his wife was responsible for the fire, which only made people more suspicious. They all thought he was trying to cover up the truth.

His wife was dead and he had no idea why. It didn't bode well for a sheriff to have his wife at the center of the biggest criminal case Beacon Hills had ever seen.

The sheriff wasn't doing so well. He was relentless in his pursuit of the truth, in his search of a culprit. He uncovered all the information he could on the Hale family, interrogated everyone that spoke to any of the victims or had even passed them in the street. He barely ate and only slept when he passed out due to extreme fatigue or too much whisky. He was obsessed. He was determined to find out what happened and nothing was going to stop him.

Or at least, that was what Stiles thought. He thought it would be his life now, watching his father destroying himself in search of an answer, and missing his mom.

Until Kate Argent.

It was late one night; Stiles had already gone to bed when he was awoken by voices. He slipped out of bed and crept towards the staircase. He remembers how cold the ground was under his bare feet, how chilly the mid-December air was, even in the house.

He could hear his dad's voice. He sound tired and upset, but he was using his sheriff voice, the one he sometimes used on Stiles when he had to clean up his room or had forgotten to close the refrigerator door. A female voice answered him and Stiles tiptoed down the stairs until he could hear what was being said without being seen.

He craned his neck to try and identify who the woman was. His father was standing in the kitchen, running a hand through his hair, and pacing. He looked mad, and upset. There was a blonde woman sitting at the kitchen table. She looked young, in her early twenties. She was dressed all in black and was asking Stiles's dad to sit. There were two men flanking the woman in the chair. They looked like robbers in a movie, tense, all in dark clothes, with winter hats and boots.

Stiles was suddenly feeling really nervous. Those people didn't look very friendly and his dad looked edgy.

"Please, Sheriff Stilinski, sit down," It was phrased like a request, but Stiles could sense that the woman was used to giving orders.

His dad ignored her, turning his back on her and leaning against the kitchen counter. He took a deep breath as if to calm himself before running his hand down his face, and turning around. He looked pissed off and incredulous.

"You come to my house and tell me…," he stopped for a second and wiped his mouth again. "You tell me that my wife was killed by…by monsters…out of some damn fantasy book. And you want me to just sit down and accept it?"

"No, I want you to sit down and let me explain it to you," she answered calmly.

His father gave a pointed look to the two men behind the women. She waved her hand and the two men left the kitchen. Stiles ducked, hoping they wouldn't see him as they went out the front door. They didn't leave, but waited on the doorstep, with the door open, so they could also eavesdrop on the conversation in the kitchen

When he turned his attention back toward the kitchen, his dad was sitting in front of the woman and she had started talking.

"…by the time we got there, it was, sadly, too late."

"This doesn't make sense. Why would they kidnap my wife?"

"They are animals, Sheriff. You shouldn't try to find a reason for their actions. Once we discovered what they had done, we decided it was time to act."

His dad laughed bitterly and put his head in his hands.

"Time? You obviously knew these monsters were living here, that they were a danger to this community and you decided to what? Wait until they killed someone to act?"

"We have a code. We don't kill if they don't…"

"Your damn code cost my wife her life!" his father raged, standing up, and leaning toward the woman.

"I can't tell you how much I regret it, Sheriff Stilinski. It wasn't meant to happen. But you have to understand that we did everything we could to try and save your wife. As soon as we learned that the pack had taken a human…"

"I don't…," the sheriff interrupted her. "You burned down a whole house. There were children in there."

"Werewolves. Believe me, no one in that house was innocent."

"My wife was," he told her with conviction.

"And she has been avenged."

The sheriff scrutinized her for a minute.

"Why are you telling me this?"

"Excuse-me?" the woman seemed surprised.

"You said your family has been hunting wer…those monsters for centuries, but it seems like it's a well-kept secret. So why are you telling me this, now?"

The woman looked contrite.

"You want me to stop my investigation," Stiles's dad realized.

"As you have understood, the existence of werewolves is a fact that should be kept secret. You're a very good investigator, Sheriff. We've realized that the best way to keep this matter discreet would be to tell you the truth. You deserve to know the truth about your wife's death," she adds.

"It won't be that easy. The investigation won't stop just because I decide so. And I won't decide to stop investigating just because you come to me with some fairytale about werewolves and hunters."

"It is no fairytale, Sheriff, believe me. We will offer you proof if you need it. And we wouldn't dare ask you to risk your career, of course. As far as the fire department is concerned, some new information in the course of their investigation will lead them to rule out arson. They will determine that the fire was an accident due to faulty wiring."

"What about my wife?"

"She won't be a person of interest in the investigation. In a few weeks, nobody will be wondering at her presence there anymore."

Stiles's father closed his eyes for a second.

"You know the truth, Sheriff Stilinski. This is your chance to offer closure for your family, for your son. Your wife's death was a horrible tragedy; those who were responsible have already paid for…"

"What about the survivors? Did you…did you killed those kids too? The two who disappeared after the fire?"

"I can assure you that they will be taken care of."

"They're just…they're just kids. Only a few years older than my son…," his father was stopped by the woman, placing a hand on one of his and fixing him in the eyes.

"They're not kids, Sheriff. They are monsters. Look at what happens when we try to treat them as human."


	2. Chapter 1

**SIX YEARS LATER**

Stiles cringes when he loses his footing on some mud and nearly falls over. He groans when he feels the mud seeping into his shoes and socks, soaking his right foot.

"It should be around here somewhere," Scott announces.

"You said that half a mile ago."

"And _whose_ brilliant idea was it to go into the woods in the middle of the night?"

"Dude, half a body! It was supposed to be a cool, if slightly scary, experience. But as usual, all I got was two weeks of dish duty and cold socks. This blows. Why must things suck so much?" Stiles sighs. "How did you even lose your inhaler, anyway? Do your pockets have holes or something? We were here for like three minutes before my dad caught us."

"Stop whining and start looking," Scott says with a glare.

Admittedly, Stiles is whining a lot, but damn it, it's freezing and the humidity is off the charts. He hates humidity. He loathes it. At least, it doesn't affect his hair, but Scott looks ridiculous right now. Well, Scott always looks ridiculous…it's Scott. But the humidity makes his hair so curly he looks like a poodle, and the fact that he's currently pawing at the ground, in search of his inhaler, only complements this mental image.

"I swear we were right here last night." Scott was two minutes away from pitching a fit. And he had already checked under that rock _twice_.

"Can't you just buy another one?"

"Are you kidding? It's like eighty bucks or something!"

"Well, here's an idea for next time: don't lose it"

Scott turns abruptly toward him ready to counter that suggestion with some colorful language, but he stops suddenly, his mouth open and his eyes big and round. His gaze focuses on a point beyond Stiles' shoulder.

"What are you doing here? Huh?" Comes an unknown voice.

Stiles jumps in the air, and he will forever deny that he grabbed Scott's shirt for dear life. He turns around and feels his heart jump in his chest. It only takes him a second to recognize that face. He has a photo of that face in a book next to his bed.

It's a face he has been looking at for four years now to remind him that the world isn't a safe place, to remind him that monsters exist. They exist and they destroyed his life. They exist and he refuses to just accept it and move on. He doesn't want to be the kind of person that just accepts it and continues living their life like nothing has changed. He can't. They destroyed his life, his dad's life, his mom's, and so many others. He refuses to just sit there and take it.

Stiles had decided years ago that he was going to become a hunter.

He was twelve when he found his father's file on the Hales. Two weeks and a few e-mails to Kate Argent later, he discovered that she still hadn't found Laura Hale and her little brother. He'd stolen the picture from his dad's file and kept it next to his bed ever since. He would look at it when he woke up in the middle of night with images of fire and claws lingering in his mind, or when the weight on his chest would become so heavy that he couldn't remember how to breathe.

It reminds him that there are monsters out there, and those monsters aren't anonymous and they aren't invincible. The kids in that picture are only a few years older than he is. They don't look scary. It should have terrorized him that monsters looked like him, but it comforted him instead. They weren't ugly and enormous, or insurmountable. They looked like something he could beat. They looked like something he could kill.

"This is private property."

Derek Hale doesn't look like the kid in the picture anymore. His heart is beating fast in his chest, but Stiles swallows and forces himself to look right at him, to not be scared of the monster that lurks behind this underwear model exterior. (He may hate the guy but he still has eyes, okay? That's a totally legitimate observation).

"Sorry, we were just looking for something but…" Scott responds hesitantly.

Scott slaps him on the side and Stiles blinks, realizing that he was staring a little too much. He has to play it cool. It's not like he can take this monster out right now. No chance in hell. And Scott would probably freak out if he starts attacking strangers for no reason. And how the hell do you even attack someone anyway? He's not stupid nor does he have a death wish, thank you very much. He forces himself to stop glaring and looks at the ground instead, running his hand over his shaved head trying to appear casual and contrite.

"Yeah, sorry, man, we didn't know. We'll just…" Stiles pauses, wary, when he sees the man reach for something in his pocket. Derek throws something at Scott and Stiles exhales in relief when he sees that it's just his inhaler. Of course, it was. What did he think it was, a grenade? He has to calm down for god's sake. It's just a werewolf. In the woods. Alone with them. With no one around to…

"Are you okay?"

Stiles snaps out of his private freak out session when he realizes that Derek Hale is walking away. Oh, so no maiming today. That's good news!

"You look like you've seen a ghost," Scott observes.

"Dude, that was Derek Hale!" He can't help exclaiming.

When he sees the blank look on Scott's face, he bites his lip. Of course Scott doesn't know who he is or what he is. Stiles and his father had never told anyone. How could they? Who would have believed them? It would have cost the Sheriff his career as well as his credibility. As for Stiles, Scott may tolerate a lot of his eccentricities, but he couldn't endanger their friendship by starting to talk about how supernatural monsters killed his mom. He looks crazy enough as it is.

"Um. His family they…"

"Oh shit, Stiles, _that_ Hale? Sorry, I didn't realize!"

Oh right, Scott may not know about werewolves, but he does know that his mother died in the same fire that decimated the Hale family.

"Do you, like, know him?"

"No. I just saw a picture once."

Well, at least that was true. He has no idea what kind of man Derek Hale is. But, then again, he isn't a man, is he?

"Look at what happens when we try to treat them as human," Kate Argent still whispers from some corner of his mind.

Stiles reties the laces of his boots for the third time and makes sure he tucks his black jeans into his boots. Maybe he has gone a little over the top with the whole black ops outfit? But, it was what those guys with Kate Argent had been wearing that night six years ago, so it must be the werewolf hunter official uniform. So what if these boots make his feet look enormous? If he wants to convince Kate Argent he can be a hunter, he has to dress the part.

God knows how he did it, but Scott has a date with the new girl, Allison, tonight and Stiles had managed to get the address of the Argents out of him. It's been two days since the Argents have been back in Beacon Hills. He thought they had come back to hunt Derek, but the werewolf is still out there and they haven't done shit about it. Stiles is not a patient person and he's decided to go ask them what the hell they thought they were doing. It's one werewolf; it shouldn't be that hard to kill! Then again, Peter Hale has been a vegetable for years and they haven't done anything about him either.

Stiles wants answers.

And if he can convince them to recruit him, that's just a bonus. He's wanted to start his training as a hunter for years, but Kate Argent doesn't answer his e-mails anymore and he's had no other way to contact the Argents. Until now.

He takes a deep breath and knocks. He's fidgeting with the sleeves of his black shirt when the door opens, revealing a stranger.

"Hi," Stiles says hesitantly. Maybe he should have focused on his speech instead of his outfit.

"Good evening…" the man answers and then pauses, looking at him from head to toe with a raised eyebrow. "Allison left half an hour ago."

"I'm not here for her. I'm here for you," The eyebrow rises higher. "I mean not to…I don't want to date you, sir." The man's eyes get rounder. "Not that Allison is on a date. Or is she? I don't know anything about it!"

Did he just salute the man? Oh hell. He closes his eyes for a second and wishes to go back in time, to just before he knocked on that door and made a total fool of himself. Yeah, like he wouldn't do it all over again anyway...

"I want to be a hunter!" He blurts out without meaning to. "Sir."

The man's face, which was amused, becomes instantly serious. He scrutinizes him for a few seconds. "Why don't you come in?" The man takes a look around before stepping back to let Stiles come in.

He guides Stiles to the living room, and gestures for him to sit on the couch. The man sits down in the accompanying armchair.

"I'm Chris, Allison's dad. What is your name, son?"

"Stiles."

"That's not a name, that's a nickname," Mr. Argent points out.

"That's what people call me."

Mr. Argent - no way is he calling this guy Chris, he looks even more intimidating that his dad - just keeps looking at him, waiting, and Stiles relents.

"Stilinski. Stiles Stilinski."

The man looks like he wants to correct him again, but he shakes his head, like he remembers something.

"Oh, so _you're_ the infamous Stalker Stilinski," he chuckles like it's a private joke. "My sister told me about you."

Stalker Stilinski? What the hell? He's not a stalker! He just likes to be informed. And have regular updates. If people don't answer him, what choice does he have but to keep asking them? That's how a conversation works.

"Well, I wouldn't put a lot of weight in what she says since she _told_ me that she would kill Derek Hale years ago."

The glare the man sends him makes him immediately regret his words. Maybe the offensive isn't the best strategy in this situation. But cowering isn't going to help his cause either, so Stiles continues to look straight into the hunter's eyes.

"Listen, _Stiles_. This is an adult matter. So I advise you to focus on your homework and let us handle this. Okay?"

"No. You had years to act and you couldn't even find him! Now he comes parading back right under your noses, right under _my_ nose, and you can't even do anything about it."

"Sit. Down," Mr. Argent says pointedly. Stiles hadn't even realized he had stood up during his little tirade. He sits down, intimidated, despite his best efforts, by the man's authority. "I know your story with the Hales. You may think that we can just kill willy-nilly, but that isn't how it works. There is no proof that Derek Hale had anything to do with your mother's death." Stiles can feel himself getting angry from just hearing Chris mention his mother. The hunter seems to sense it. "I can assure you we'll do what needs to be done if Derek or any other werewolf were to even think about doing anything like that to someone. But we can't just kill people like this, this isn't how…"

"But they aren't _people_! It's your hesitating that caused-" Stiles exclaims.

"Stop. Right there," the man orders, before he continues speaking, but more calmly. "You have no idea what you're talking about, kid. You think you do, but I can assure you that you don't. You had your revenge; _we gave you_ your revenge years ago. Now, it's time to let it go."

"No. It's not. And you don't know anything about me," he insists..

The hunter sighs before leaning towards him a little. Stiles tamps down his urge to back away.

"You want to become a hunter?" the man asks and Stiles nods. "How old are you?"

"Sixteen."

"You're in high school with my daughter, aren't you? Earlier, you said you knew her?"

"I…I spoke to her. Like, once."

"She doesn't know about this, about what we do. But she will. Two years from now, when she turns eighteen, I will tell her everything and give her the choice. If she wants to become a hunter, I'll train her."

Stiles perks up at the mention of training and the man notices.

"If you still want to be a hunter by then, you come see me, and I'll train you too."

"What? No! I don't want to wait two ye-"

"You're sixteen. You're a _child_. I'm pretty sure your father would agree with me," he pauses for a second, waiting for Stiles to back down. Seeing that Stiles isn't intimidated, he continues, "But hey, you want me to call him to check? He's the Sheriff, right?"

Any righteousness that Stiles has deflates, and he glares at Chris, defeated. His dad would kill him if he learned that Stiles had come here tonight…and that he's been pestering Kate Argent for years now…and that he's seen Derek Hale. Okay, point to Mr. Argent for his cunning strategy, but that is _so_ cheating.

"That's what I thought," the man concludes. "When you're eighteen, if you still want to start training, you come see me and I promise you we'll give it a try. Until then, you stay out of the way. You stay away from me, you stay away from my sister, and you stay the hell away from Derek Hale. Is that clear?"

The look Mr. Argent gives him is piercing and intimidating, but Stiles tries to maintain eye contact.

But damn, this man is badass.

"You will take care of Derek?" He tries.

"If it's needed, we will."

"That's not-" Stiles starts protesting again.

"It _is_. Now, go. I've heard there is a party. Go and have fun with your friends. Your _high school_ friends."

Stiles would sulk if he didn't think it would prove Mr. Argent's point. As it is, he just shuts up and leaves.

This didn't go the way Stiles had planned _at all_. Well, maybe if he had planned it a little better…Oh sue him, he has ADHD, okay? Planning ahead isn't exactly one of his strong suits. Still, he can't believe he won't become a bad ass werewolf hunter because he is scared of _his dad_. Huh. So much for badassery.

"What's up with you?"

Stiles stops worrying at the net of his lacrosse stick, and glances toward Scott, who is accompanying him on the bench.

"Nothing."

"You're sulking."

"Am not!" He asserts, but then sighs when Jackson scores and everyone cheers. "It's just…why are we even here?"

"Here…on earth?" Scott asks, grimacing.

"No, _here_ here. Sitting on this bench doing nothing. I'm tired of doing nothing!" He finishes, frustrated.

He heard - okay, maybe "eavesdropped on" is the more appropriate term here, but still - his father talking about the body they found in the woods - well, half of the body, the other one was still missing. A body doesn't get cut in two by accident. This girl had been murdered. And the _very _next day, Derek Hale appeared on the scene? This was no coincidence. He _has _been patient, he _has_ been waiting for the Argents to act for three days, but they weren't doing _anything_. Derek killed this girl. Stiles was sure of it. But nobody seems to care. What were they waiting for? Derek was going to kill again and not being able to do anything was killing him. Being here, sitting on this damn bench watching his friends playing lacrosse was just too much. How was he supposed to become a hunter when he couldn't even pass a stupid lacrosse try out?

"Are you…thinking of dropping lacrosse?" The way Scott says it, it sounds like Stiles wants to decapitate a cat.

"No. Maybe. I don't know. I just…want to do something you know? I'm tired of being on the sidelines."

"Then _do_ something."

Stiles turns toward his friend, surprised.

"Yeah, because that's so easy!"

"I don't know, maybe it is," Scott adds, shrugging. "Look at me and Allison."

And here it comes. Scott hadn't talked about Allison for at least two minutes, Stiles was getting worried.

"I would never have thought that I would go out with someone so amazing, and yet…" He turns around and waves at his girlfriend, pointing her out in the crowd when she waves back. As if Stiles could have forgotten that she was there when Scott couldn't stop marveling about how the sun reflects in her hair and makes her eyes shine - or was it shine in her hair and reflect in her eyes? Stiles had stopped listening to Scott's shitty poetry half an hour ago.

"Yeah, congrats on that, man. Again."

"I'm just saying, if you want to do something, then do it. And if you can't, try harder. And if you still can't, do something else."

"Having a girlfriend doesn't make you Yoda material, you know."

Scott pouts. Stiles is thankful that his best friend couldn't hold a grudge if his life depended on it, because he is right, Stiles is being a sulking ass these days.

"Maybe you're right," He concedes. Scott smiles goofily.

"I think I have a recorder app on my phone, can you repeat that?"

"Shut up," Stiles teases, bumping his shoulder against his friend's.

But what if Scott is right? (And isn't that a sign that the world is going to end?)

Maybe he should stop sulking and blaming the Argents for doing nothing and actually _do_ something himself. Maybe he can't go after Derek, but he can prove to the Argents that the werewolf is guilty. It would leave them no other choice than to go after him. If it's proof that they want, maybe he could find it.

Oh geez, he was going to get frozen toes again, wasn't he?

Because his best chance to prove that Derek Hale was responsible for the murder was to find the other half of the body.


	3. Chapter 2

As it turns out, frozen toes should have been the least of his worries. Vomiting in the bushes is way worse.

He had quickly decided that if the whole police department hadn't found the missing half of the body, he miraculously wasn't going to find it himself by wandering aimlessly in the woods. But unlike the police, he actually knew what was going on; he knew who killed this poor girl.

So that's how he ended up on the Hale property with a shovel.

What he'd neglected to think about was how gross a rotting corpse is. And the fact that there was only half, did absolutely nothing to lessen the gross factor. And the smell, oh god the smell.

He had tucked the flower that magically transformed the body from a girl to a wolf in his backpack, but now he's left standing around this makeshift grave. So he found the body. Great. Now what is he supposed to do with it?

Thinking ahead, jeez, he should really learn to do that one of these days.

The only thing he can think of is to call his dad. But then he might as well just take this shovel and start digging his own grave. But damn it, he found the body and he isn't going to make an anonymous call and lose his chance to prove himself to the Argents.

On the other hand, Derek Hale could come back any minute now and _eat_ him. Like, literally. So yeah, dad it is.

What was even worse than his dad's anger was the look on his face when he realised that Derek Hale was back in town.

Stiles watches his dad handcuff Derek. His face is so tense that it looks like it is carved out stone, but it's an expression that no sane person would want to immortalize. The sheriff puts Derek in the patrol car and then returns to his deputy's side to inspect the grave.

Stiles can't resist, it's his chance to be face to face with the monster, to confront his fear. He gets in the passenger side of the police car.

And somehow Derek Hale is even more intimidating up close. It doesn't even matter that he's also handcuffed and in the back of a patrol car. At the same time, he manages to exude this rugged handsomeness, but in a psychotic way. If there is such a thing as psychotically sexy.

"Just so you know, I'm not afraid of you."

Derek's glare intensifies and okay, that is one scary look. Forget psychotically sexy, his penis has officially retreated to higher ground. Teenage Libido Inc. is officially closed for business.

"Okay. Maybe I am," he admits. "Only because I know what you are, and what you did to that girl. But you made a monumental mistake. Because now you're screwed, buddy. If the law doesn't get your ass, the hunters will."

"Why. Do you. Care."

Wow, apparently this guy missed the whole grammar lesson on punctuation.

"About people dying? Because, unlike you, I'm human."

"She wasn't," Derek gestures with a nod toward the grave as a squeamish deputy and the coroner tentatively extract the body. The werewolf frowns for a second, swallows, and then averts his gaze from the gruesome sight. Stiles narrows his eyes, surprised by his reaction. He's further caught off guard as Derek lunges forward, he's suddenly _right _there and Stiles realizes there's only some metal mesh and a few inches separating them. Stiles violently recoils and hits his head against the windshield.

"Who are you."

Again with the punctuation, man, this guy doesn't even know how to talk like a human being, does he?

Before Stiles can answer though, the passenger door opens, a hand grabs his arm and he's hauled out of the car.

Here comes more trouble.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?" The Sheriff asks him, ignoring Stiles stumbling as he lets him go.

"I'm trying to help!"

"Really? So how about you help me understand exactly how you came across this body?"

"I…was looking for Scott's inhaler," Stiles explains, rubbing the spot on his head that had collided with the windshield

"Alone. In the woods. Near this house…," the Sheriff gestures widely before closing his eyes and letting his arm drop. "Stiles, don't lie to me. Please."

"I'm not."

He _was_ looking for Scott's inhaler when he saw Derek for the first time and all this began, all right? So that's totally not a lie. Technically.

"And what were you doing just now?" His dad says, nodding towards the patrol car.

"I…I needed to see one. For real. Up close."

"Do you want to get ripped to shreds? Is that it? You have a death wish I don't know about?"

"What? No! I just…He's a Hale, dad."

"And if it turns out that he killed that girl..."

"If?! He buried her in his garden!"

"Which isn't his garden anymore. He moved out years ago and since neither he nor his sister claimed it, the house is the state's property now."

"So he's going to get out on a technicality?!" Stiles panics.

"Calm down. That's not what I'm saying. But, Stiles, I can hold him and question him, but if there's no proof I can't do much more than that."

"But…you know what he is!"

His father puts a hand on his arm, nodding toward the officers a few feet away.

"This is not up for discussion, son. I'll investigate, but I can't put an innocent man in jail."

"Yeah. _Innocent_," Stiles scoffs as his dad pats him on the arm.

"Go home. You've got a big game tonight. And that is the only reason you're not grounded starting right now, by the way."

"Yeah, because the bench will surely miss me."

"Hey, you never know, maybe Finstock will let you play! Either way, I'll be there supporting you, okay?"

Stiles nods.

"Oh, and Stiles?" the Sheriff adds just as Stiles begins to turn away. "After the game, we'll talk about the conditions of your grounding. _In detail_."

As soon as Scott sees him in the changing room, he stops him.

"Hey! Is it true? Did you find the other half of the body? Why didn't you ask me to come with you?"

Stiles knows from experience that Scott wants to hear the gory details rather than scold him.

"Believe me, you didn't miss anything, bro. Dead bodies are _gross_," Stiles grimaces and flails his arms imitating the Thriller zombies.

"Still, you found it, that's cool!"

Stiles shrugs and points to Scott's eyebrow, which has a cut that wasn't there before. "What happened to you?"

"Oh, Allison's dad ran me over with his car."

"He what?!"

"It was an accident… I think. But now he's coming to the game, which sucks. It's way cooler to tell your girlfriend's dad that you're on the lacrosse team rather than him actively witnessing your bench-warming skills," Scott laments.

"Tell me about it. My dad still thinks Finstock is going to let me play."

"Maybe he will?"

"Yeah, right."

They both laugh and finish getting ready.

It's only when he arrives on the field and sees Mr. Argent looking right at him that he realizes that maybe he also has to worry about the guy's judgement.

If Scott's heard the gossip, then the hunter must also know how he spent his afternoon. He tries to muster his most innocent expression for the adult and gets a glare in return.

Yep, he's definitely screwed. Again. But hey, the Argents wanted proof, Stiles got them proof.

"Oh my god, did you see how he just glared at me?" Scott panics next to him.

Stiles pats him on the back as they sit on the bench.

"Maybe it's not a glare. Maybe it's like an encouraging stare?"

Scott looks at him dubiously.

"Just trying to do my job as best friend here!"

"Hey, kid," His dad appears over his shoulder. "So, do you think you're going to see any action tonight?"

Stiles can't help but throw a glance in the direction of Mr. Argent and pales when he sees him walking toward them.

"Action? Maybe," he grimaces.

"Scott!" Mr. Argent waves as he approaches. "You going to play tonight?"

"Um, no. Not tonight, I'm afraid," Scott says, pretending it's an unusual occurrence.

Luckily for Scott, the hunter pays no mind to him, having already switched his attention towards Stiles's dad.

"Sheriff Stilinski, isn't it? I'm Chris Argent, Allison's dad."

It must seem like an innocent exchange to Scott, but the looks that Chris and the Sherriff exchange speak volumes as they seemingly acknowledge the situation.

"Nice to meet you, Mr. Argent."

"Oh, call me Chris, please."

Oh god, they're already on a first name basis, Stiles is so dead. He's trying to concentrate on the beginning of the game, when his dad claps a firm hand on his shoulder. Crap, he had hoped they would forget he was here.

"This is my son, Stiles."

Quick, diversion, he needs a diversion.

"Hey dad, did you know Scott is dating Allison?"

The look Scott sends him is utter betrayal meets gaping fish. To be fair, he did just throw his best friend in the line of fire. He will probably burn in best friend hell for that. But hey, Scott always talks about how he wants to be first in line, right? Yeah, no, definitely Hell.

"Oh he…is?" The Sheriff sound a little lost, but catches the evil look that Mr. Argent is giving Scott. "I should um…go back to my seat. It was nice meeting you, Chris."

"You too, Sheriff. But you know what? Why don't you come sit with my daughter and me? I know absolutely nothing about lacrosse and could use some help deciphering the game."

The pointed look the hunter gives Stiles is very clear. Apparently no one is buying his bullshit. Good to know. Apparently he's going to be made to suffer for the rest of his life, before he goes to Hell then.

This fact is supported when Scott punches him in the stomach as soon as the adults are gone.

"Deserved that," Stiles says with a cringe, holding his ribs.

When the game ends, he goes to find his dad and is relieved to see that Chris Argent is not with him. He's way less relieved when he sees the look the Sheriff gives him. His dad takes him by his arm and guides him purposefully away from the crowd for a little privacy. Stiles rubs his gloved hands nervously. What if Mr. Argent told him everything about Stiles wanting to become a hunter? He opens his mouth to apologize, but his dad cuts him off.

"I'm sorry, Stiles."

Wait, wasn't that his line?

His dad rubs his mouth for a few seconds. "The medical examiner just called me. He's confident that an animal, not a human, inflicted the wounds that resulted in the woman's death. Which means that I can't keep Derek locked up."

"What? But, dad, you know it's him! You know he kil…"

"I'm not so sure, Stiles. They've also identified the victim. It was Laura Hale."

"Derek's sister?" Well, he wasn't expecting that. Why would Derek kill his own sister? Why would he leave her body in the woods and then go back to bury her? "It doesn't make sense."

"Derek says he was in New York at the time of the murder. And his alibi checks out."

Stiles's chest suddenly feels tight and he clenches his fist trying to focus on the sensation of his nails biting into his palm.

He doesn't know what's more scary: the fact that Derek is now free and probably knows who he is, or that there is another monster out there. An unknown one.


	4. Chapter 3

For the next few days, Stiles tries to forget about werewolves and hunters.

This doesn't mean he isn't watching his back though.

He doesn't know if werewolves are spiteful, but if someone were to dig up his dead sister, call the cops on him, and _then_ taunt him about his failures, he wouldn't take it very well. Plus, there is still supposedly yet another monster out there. So yeah, Stiles is man enough to admit it: he's scared that the big bad wolf's retaliation is coming.

But then three days pass and nothing happens.

Just when Stiles is thinking that maybe it's going to be okay, he arrives at school and the police are swarming the place. Surrounding what looks to be an abandoned school bus. A very_ bloody_ abandoned school bus.

His father is already here talking with the paramedics, who are standing there rather aimlessly, their stretcher empty. . So it doesn't appear as if there's a victim… or at least a victim needing medical attention but with that much blood, there's definitely a dead body lying around somewhere…. Unless the beast ate it. Oh god, there is an actual possibility that the school bus driver was eaten by a werewolf How is this his life?

Stiles hasn't even taken a step in the direction of the crime scene when the Sheriff stops him in his tracks with a brusque gesture and his patented 'take-no-bullshit' look, and then points Stiles back toward the school. For once, Stiles is glad that his dad is giving him an excuse not to indulge his curiosity. Because seriously, there's blood everywhere and he doesn't actually feel like getting any closer to _that_.

Stiles is in Biology class, trying to pay attention to Mr. Harris' lesson when something outside catches his eye. He turns his head and feels his blood run cold. Derek Hale is standing outside. He's far enough that Stiles has to squint to recognize him, but that's definitely the werewolf looking right at him.

Shit. Double shit.

He jumps four feet in the air when a girl in class abruptly gets up, screaming about the police finding something. He follows the rest of the class to the window, and there is indeed a body on the stretcher.

Well, at least the guy wasn't eaten? And he doesn't seem to be missing any body parts.

Stiles winces when the body sits up and everyone around him screams. He's not dead. The bus driver isn't dead. Thank god.

While he goes back to his seat under Harris's sarcastic reprimands, Stiles can't help but frown.

Why isn't the guy dead? What's the point of attacking someone if you're not going to eat them or at least kill them? Do werewolves just get a kick out of a mild maiming?

The more he thinks about it, the less random this attack seems. Why _this_ guy, in _this_ bus? There are tons of people wandering alone the woods or town at night. Why would a werewolf wait for the end of this guy's shift and attack him inside his own damn bus? Shouldn't werewolves be kind of like dogs and enjoy the chase a little? It doesn't make any sense.

He turns toward the direction he saw Derek, but he isn't there anymore.

It can't be a coincidence that Hale was there at that exact moment, looking right at _him_, when they found _his_ bus driver. Oh god, what if it was a message? A "you're next" type of psycho thing. Yeah, it might be a little egocentric to think so, but he can see Derek doing that. He totally has that psychopath vibe going on. He would attack an innocent person just to make Stiles piss his pants, Stiles is sure of it.

Well, his pants are clean, thank you very much. And if Derek wants to fight, Stiles can fight.

Well…He's sure he can find some way to retaliate.

Maybe?

Probably.

As soon as he gets home, he opens up his internet bookmarks. He grimaces when he sees them. He's been searching and bookmarking everything he could find on werewolves for four years now so… basically his bookmarks are a mess. And he has more than two hundred of them. With Kate Argent ignoring him, he never really had any way to tell which websites were legit.

Hell, he isn't even sure of what an actual werewolf looks like.

Are they the Twilight whole_ wolf-form_, or just really hairy like in An American Werewolf in London? Do they lose control when they change, like in Supernatural, or are they totally conscious of what they're doing? Do they only change on the full moon? What powers do they have? Do they even have powers or do they just get a little more hairy and wild? Does silver even have a negative effect on them?

He feels like he's been preparing to become a hunter for a long time and yet he is so _not_ ready. How the hell is he supposed to separate the true from the false? The legit from the trash?

He ends up spending a good part of the night organizing his bookmarks, and erasing every webpage that seems to take their information from pop culture or video games.

By 3:00am, he's isolated forty-three links that seem kind of legit. What seems to be the recurring theme is that it's very difficult for werewolves to control themselves on the full moon (if not impossible). Instincts seem to take control, and that is why they're the most dangerous on that night.

The thing is, the full moon is only in two days.

"Stiles!"

Stiles runs downstairs, missing the last step and free falling until he catches the kitchen counter.

His father doesn't even seem to notice his flailing and general clumsiness anymore. Or maybe it's because his head is deep within the confines of the fridge.

When he turns towards his son, he looks like someone's killed his puppy.

"Where are the steaks?"

"What steaks?" Stiles asks innocently.

"Yesterday, there were were two T-bones in that fridge. I fired up the grill, but I can't find them anymore. Where are the steaks, Stiles?" Okay, now he's starting to look a little upset.

"Oh. _Those_ steaks. They…huh… weren't for us."

He can't exactly tell his father that one is hanging from a tree in the forest and the other is in a cage, waiting for one of the beasts to come taste it and activate the cage's mechanism, trapping the werewolf inside.

It's the full moon tonight and Stiles has decided to give it a shot. It should work on at least three different types of werewolves that the Internet had listed.

"What do you mean 'they weren't for us'? They were in our fridge! Whom would they be for?"

"Scott." It's been kind of his default excuse for everything since he was five. It rarely makes any sense, to be honest. Like now.

"What were Scott's steaks doing in our fridge?" He looks like he isn't buying his bullshit and is losing his patience.

Okay, think fast.

"Because…his mom asked me to buy them for her." Not bad, he can work with that. "I saw her yesterday and mentioned that I was going to the supermarket to buy milk. She had a craving for steaks but had to go to work, so she asked me if I could buy them for her?"

The Sheriff looks suspiciously at him before checking the fridge.

"There is no milk, Stiles."

Shit.

"I…forgot? You know how I am!" This is his next best excuse. His father does know how distracted Stiles is, but he hates mentioning it - probably not wanting to hurt his feelings or something So his dad is not going to confirm it and hurt Stiles' weak little heart, or deny it, because his father doesn't know how to lie convincingly.

His glare does say a lot about what he thinks though. Until he realizes that means he definitely won't get any red meat and the hurt puppy look makes a comeback.

"But I have cravings too. And I fired up the grill…"

Is his father pouting? Oh god.

"It's okay, dad. I got you some steak too!"

Now he looks like a kid on Christmas morning. Stiles feels a tiny bit guilty. But he's trying to save his father's heart, okay? He's the best son ever.

"Here!" He gets a plastic bag out of the fridge and gives it to his dad. His father looks at it like it's going to explode in his face.

"This does _not_ look like a steak. Not even close."

"It's stoek! It tastes like steak, but without all that red meat evilness."

"This is not a steak," His dad repeats stubbornly almost to the point of desperation.

"_Stoek._ It's awesome, you'll see!"

Stiles would admit, a few minutes later, that those tofu steaks don't taste like normal steak at all. They taste like stale fish. But he's still trying to save his dad's health, so he smiles around every disgusting bite to encourage the Sheriff to eat.

Best son _ever_.

The next day, he isn't very surprised to discover that his trap didn't work. It was a long shot anyway. But he doesn't consider it a useless endeavour because the steaks aren't there anymore.

This means two things: 1. Werewolves do love red meat - which isn't that useful, he'll admit, but he's trying to stay positive here, and 2. They are smart enough to recognize and deactivate a trap.

This must mean that they don't actually become dumb savage beasts on the full moon. They must retain at least some of their human faculties and maybe even their control.

It might be good information to have, but it's not reassuring at all. Somehow, the idea of a man losing control and becoming a savage animal is more reassuring than that of a man changing into a beast and voluntarily hurting people.

He may be starting to understand that "ignorance is bliss" saying. Because the more he learns, the scarier and more disturbing it gets.

Nobody ever said that Stiles wasn't a masochist though.

So he acknowledges that if he really wants to become a hunter, he needs to learn more about werewolves. The thing is, that leaves him only two choices: Argent or Hale.

He does consider going to Chris Argent - he really does - but he's 99.99% sure that the hunter will send him back on his way, maybe even with a reprimand and a call to his father. And, in the end, he will have to adopt plan B anyway.

So, Derek Hale it is.

This scares him shitless, but it's not like he's going to the abandoned house in the woods and ask to be educated. No, he needs to do it _hunter style_. A real hunter, not a werewolf hunter. Which means patience, observation, and a fairly good bit of stalking.

But first, he starts by training his stalking skills on Danny…and his pestering ones, even though he is kind of already a master at that. He spends the next day following the other boy until Danny relents and agrees to help him. Everyone knows Danny is a computer geek at heart, and everyone who illegally looks at a few sealed police files knows that he is also a pretty good hacker. By the end of the day, he's got an active GPS system tracking Derek Hale's phone, and a promise to never ever ever _ever_ follow Danny into the showers again.

So, even though Danny never did tell him if he was attractive to gay men or not, Stiles counts it as a win.

Stiles isn't a fool. He isn't just going to go after Derek Hale without being prepared.

As a matter of fact, he's bought a badass silver knife on Amazon (it was awkward enough buying a human sized cage, but he's pretty sure if he goes back to the store to buy a knife, someone will call the Sheriff about his son's weird hobbies). And after some lengthy research, he finally manages to purchase some wolfsbane from a guy he met on craigslist who swears he is a wizard and seems to have an irrational fear of rabbits (don't even ask how Stiles discovered that).

While waiting for those to be delivered, he starts to analyze Derek's daily routine - which seems as non-existent as it is boring, by the way. The guy barely leaves the woods and that creepy house that Stiles prefers not to think about.

How can Derek even live there knowing that all the people he loved died there?

Stiles could never set foot in that place without having a panic attack. He's always wished that it would get destroyed. It's where his mother died and he hates the idea of kids thinking it's haunted and hooligans vandalizing the place.

When his dad told him that Derek had finally taken legal possession of it, Stiles had hoped that it was because, like him, he wanted it gone. But it looks like the creepy dude just needed a creepy place to stay and thought the burned out remnants of his family house would be oh so cozy.

What a creep.

But, well, Stiles shouldn't apply human thoughts to a supernatural monster to start with, right?

The point is, Stiles is not going to go anywhere near that house again. Just being in the garden last week gave him the chills. Stiles hates that place. It was hard enough knowing his mom's spirit would forever be in the same place as those of those monsters, but the idea of a living werewolf being in that place with her makes him want to find a sledge hammer and destroy the place singlehandedly so that no one ever stepped foot into that house ever again.

So that maybe his mom can have at least a little peace.

He starts wearing the knife in the waistband of his trousers (thank god it comes with a sheath) and keeping the wolfsbane powder in his pocket. He keeps checking the GPS tracker every hour waiting for Derek to finally come into town, hoping it will be after school hours.

When it finally happens, Stiles runs to his jeep so fast that he bangs into the side of the car and nearly falls on his ass.

He parks two blocks away from Derek's position and starts walking in his direction, trying to appear casual and discreet at the same time – which is pretty damn hard, by the way.

He spots Derek getting out of a shop and freezes, searching for a place to hide. Thankfully, the werewolf is far enough away that he doesn't notice him.

Stiles soon discovers that it's not easy following someone when everyone seems to decide to walk as far away from his target as possible – thus making Stiles' side of the street extremely crowded. People look at Derek like he has a very contagious disease and seem to be trying to avoid him as much as possible.

Not that Derek tries to engage any of them; he mostly looks straight ahead, ignoring everything and everyone around him.

As Derek approaches the supermarket, he passes a woman and her toddler. Stiles swears that the woman actually runs toward her kid and shields him with her body to avoid him being in Derek's way or heaven forbid, meeting his gaze.

To be honest, it kind of weirds Stiles out.

He may have a reason to be wary of Derek, but _he_ knows what he is, so what's these people's excuse?

For all they know, he's a guy coming back to town for the first time since his family died tragically in an accident, and discovering that a wild animal killed his sister. Sure, he was a suspect in her murder, but he was also cleared of all suspicion. .

It reminds Stiles of all those times after his mother's death when people were gossiping about her presence at the Hale house, thinking that maybe she had started the fire. People began making up all sorts of horrible and salacious scenarios trying to explain the accident.

Following Derek in the supermarket, hiding in the next aisle, Stiles finds himself sympathizing with the poor guy. Well, he does for like three seconds before a hand grabs him and he finds himself slammed against the storage room wall. It happens so fast that he blinks for a second, looking around him, and wondering how he ended up in this room.

As soon as the doors swing close behind them, a hand is around his throat and either Derek Hale needs to buy a nail clipper or Stiles can add 'retractable claws' to his list of werewolf abilities. He tries to keep those claws away from his fragile skin, but all it does is expose more of his neck to the beast. Stiles flails, trying to get away, but Derek comes even closer, keeping Stiles trapped between the wall and his body. Quite frankly, only the body heat allows Stiles to differentiate between the two surfaces, how can someone have so many muscles?

"Did you really think I would be dumb enough to trap myself in that cage?"

Oh.

"I have no idea what you're talking about? What cage? That sounds kinky!"

Suddenly, his feet aren't even touching the ground anymore. Jeez, Derek is holding him in the air by the throat, his other hand clutching his shirt, and he isn't even breaking a sweat.

'Unnatural strength', check.

"Your stink was all over it." Derek rages.

'Super smell', check.

Wow, if Derek doesn't kill him in the next few minutes, this plan will have been a success!

"Why are you doing this?"

Stiles swallows. He doesn't want to go into the whole 'Stiles genesis' speech.

"It doesn't matter. It's what you are and what you did that matters here."

"And what is that? Please enlighten me."

Stiles bites his lip and looks away.

"I didn't kill my sister. I came to find out who did," the werewolf insists.

"And who is that?"

"I don't know."

"So what, you can't super smell him?" Stiles mocks.

Derek glares and Stiles swallows heavily. Mocking the monster that has you in his claws isn't a very good idea. Stiles always says stupid things when he's scared, or panicked, or nervous, or tired, or…okay, he has no mouth-brain filter, bite him. Derek bares his teeth and he winces. No, no he takes that back, no biting, please!

The claws release him and Stiles crumples to the ground like his legs are made of marshmallows.

"Stop following me," Derek orders after a long sigh.

"Wait, wait, wait!"

Why is he stopping him? The monster isn't going to kill him, that's good news! For God's sake his curiosity is going to get him killed.

Derek stops with a hand on the door but doesn't turn back towards him.

"You know what killed your sister? Is he a monster like you?"

Wow, 'fangs and glowing blue eyes', check. 'Pissing himself', maybe a little check.

"He is nothing like me," the werewolf growls.

Stiles forces himself to get back on his feet.

"Oh, so he must be a good guy, right?" Stiles taunts.

The fangs retract, but those magnificent eyebrows are merely millimeters away from touching each other.

Are those the result of a werewolf mutation too?

Derek takes a step towards him and Stiles brings his hand to his waist where his knife is hidden. Before he can reach it, the werewolf catches his wrist, squeezing way too hard. Stiles tries not to grimace and to take the knife with his other hand. Before he knows it, both his wrists are held above his head. Derek is holding them with one hand and doesn't look impressed at all.

He slowly lifts the human's shirt and looks down. He raises an eyebrow when he sees the knife tucked in the teen's pants. Stiles hopes werewolves don't have super hearing because he's pretty sure his heart is doing the rumba right now. Stiles shivers despite himself when the back of Derek's hand grazes his stomach as he takes the knife. The man brings it in front of Stiles's face and observes it with a critical eye.

"Is that silver?" he asks with a mocking tone. "It's pretty," he decides before tucking it into his pants. From the lack of a hissing sound, smoke, and pain, Stiles is pretty sure he can erase silver from his list of werewolf allergens. "You obviously need to do more research. So, get back to that and leave me alone."

Stiles is on the verge of protesting when suddenly Derek's hand catches his jaw and pushes his head against the wall. He can feel the werewolf's breath on his throat and feels himself going cross-eyed looking at the fangs growing, an inch away from brushing his skin.

"Or I'm going to rip your throat out. With my teeth," Derek hisses.

Stiles closes his eyes, shuddering and clenching his teeth in fright. His eyes snap open when his ass suddenly hits the floor and he finds himself alone in the room. He brings his knees to his chest and sits there for a while, trying to catch his breath and calm his heart.

When he gets home that afternoon, he tapes the picture of Derek to his computer screen and looks at his smiling, innocent-looking young face while he lists all the things he's learned about him today.

Once he finishes cross-referencing that information with the websites and deleting the fake ones, he lets himself fall back into his chair and breathe deeply.

There's too much conflicting information. Not only on werewolves, but also on Derek Hale himself.

Why didn't he kill him? Or hurt him?

He may have scared him, but he didn't actually do anything to hurt him.

Is he really searching for the beast that hurt his sister? Is he going to fight it? Was it the same beast that attacked the bus driver then? Was Derek there to try and identify it?

And, more importantly, if Derek is going to hunt the beast killing people, should Stiles really wish someone was hunting Derek?


	5. Chapter 4

"Do you know Isaac Lahey?" his dad asks him over dinner.

"I know who he is," Stiles confirms distractedly.

"Someone called the Sheriff's department this morning, the kid looked pretty beat up so I had to investigate whether or not I needed to call Social Services. He claims it was a bully, but won't say who. You ever seen anything like that at school or have any idea who it could be?"

"Not really. I never really talk to Isaac outside of Lacrosse practice."

"He's on the team?"

"Yeah. Kind of. He tried out for first string a few weeks ago, but apparently he's not very motivated to help Scott and me warm the bench, he's barely ever there."

"Could you try and keep an eye on him? I'm kind of worried about the kid, it didn't look like the first time this has happened.."

"I can try, but it's not like I can do anything to help," Stiles confesses gesturing towards his body. Even if he were to catch the bullies in the act, he wouldn't be able to do much. In fact, he would probably end up being their next victim. That wouldn't stop him from trying though, but it wouldn't fix anything.

"I'm not asking you to get in a fight for him. Just keep an eye out. A discreet one. Remember what your mom used to say?"

"A bully always has something to hide, find it and you will have him by the balls?"

"I'm pretty sure she never phrased it like that, but that's the idea yeah. Isaac seems like a good kid, and he's probably not the only victim. If they need to have a few words with the Sheriff to calm down, they sure will get it. But for all we know they could be acting out because of a situation at home."

"Thank you, Dr. Phil," Stiles retorts sarcastically while smashing his potatoes with his fork. When he looks up, his father is giving him a terse look. "I'll keep an eye on him," Stiles promises grudgingly.

"Good. What's up with you anyway?"

"Nothing."

"I saw Scott's car in front of the bowling alley on the way home. How come you aren't with him?" His dad tries to ask casually. He's feigning casual just about as well as his son usually does.

"We're not attached at the hip, you know."

"You could have had me fooled."

Stiles glares, but his heart really isn't in it. He may have been pretty occupied recently with the whole werewolf thing, but he wasn't even invited to bowling night. He didn't even have lunch with Scott today. By the time he'd made it to the cafeteria, Scott was already sitting with Lydia, Jackson, Allison, and Danny. There wasn't a free seat at their table, so he had just taken his sandwich and gone to eat in the library, checking the GPS tracker. Derek had lunch at Bobby's. Not that anyone cares.

His father stands up and brings the dishes to the sink.

"Can you wash the dishes? I have to get going."

"I thought you weren't working tonight?"

"I'm not. I'm going to Patty's Pub with Chris."

Stiles straightens up immediately.

"Chris _Argent_?"

"Yep," the Sheriff nods while putting on his coat.

"And you're not going to elaborate on why the h- why Mr. Argent is asking you out for a beer?"

"He's a cool dude," his dad replies with a shrug.

"He's a hunter."

"And I'm the Sheriff. What's your point?"

"Oh, nothing. Have a good night with your pal the werewolf hunter then."

"Thanks!" His dad smirks, ignoring his son's sarcasm.

Stiles doesn't like this. Stiles doesn't like this _at all._

He's working on his history paper and dwelling on the fact that it's a Friday and everyone is going out except him. Even his _father _is in on itand his father _never_ goes out! But Stiles suddenly realizes that hey, he knows someone that's probably alone tonight too. He checks the GPS tracker and sighs when he sees that even Derek is in town. Geez, even this troglodyte has a more active social life than he does these days. He's zooming in to try and determine what exactly the werewolf is doing tonight, when he realizes where he is.

Derek is at Patty's. Where his dad is, where Chris-The-Freaking-Werewolf-Hunter-Argent is. Oh crap, this is not going to end well.

Before he knows it, he's grabbed his wolfsbane powder and is running – tumbling, really- toward his jeep.

He parks in front of Patty's five minutes later, having broken every speed limit in the nine blocks separating him from the pub.

He gets his phone out and checks the GPS tracker, zooming in as much as he can.

He freezes when he realizes that Derek isn't actually in the pub. Nope, he's exactly ten feet from _him_. For Mr. Argent and his dad, it's probably good news. For him, probably not. Stiles looks around but can't see anything. He hesitates for a few minutes, before putting some wolfsbane powder in his hand and getting out of the car.

He stays low between the cars, edging towards Derek's position. He reaches a big black SUV and crouches down when he sees a shadow in the corner of his eye.

It looks like Derek is on the other side of this car, but he doesn't dare to check the tracker on his phone, the blue light of the screen would be a glaring beacon in the dark. Maybe he can look through the car window? Yes, that sounds good. He stands up, as much as he dares, to look, his heart going rabbit fast.

A hand suddenly catches him around the mouth, covering up his squeak of surprise. Panicking, Stiles throws the powder over his shoulder, right in the werewolf's face.

Surprised, Derek lets him go, shaking his head like a wet dog. Stiles tries to run away, but a hand grabs the back of his shirt immediately, keeping him in place.

"Why are you throwing…" Derek stops for a second, licking his lips and sniffing. "Why the hell would you throw baking soda in my face?" he bellows.

Damn rabbit wizard. He paid sixty bucks for baking soda?!

The sound of voices drifts over from the pub's entrance, and Derek crouches, pulling Stiles down with him. The boy falls on his ass, legs flailing, scrambling until his back hits the car door.

"Hey, Derek, I wasn't expecting to see you here!" He tries to feign surprise, giving Derek an innocent smile. From the glare the werewolf sends him, he doesn't buy his bullshit. Well, _that_ would certainly be a first.

"What are you doing here? How did you know I was here?"

"I wasn't following you!" Stiles replies defensively.

"You're lying," Derek says absentmindedly as he rises slightly from his crouching position to survey the entrance of the pub.

Stiles gapes, flabbergasted, that the guy would actually turn his back on him like that. He's his enemy; you don't turn your back on your enemy! He could stab him in the back for all Derek knows! Well, he could have if Derek hadn't stolen his awesome knife. But still, he could have gotten another one! Derek should treat Stiles as a potential threat, damn it. He is _dangerous_, okay?

Sadly, the only thing he can think of to cement his dangerous status would be slapping Derek on the ass. Maybe he should. Stiles wonders if it would be as firm as the part of Derek's torso that had pressed against him the other day in the supermarket. What. Oh god, and Derek just caught him looking at his ass. Shit. And now he's smirking acknowledging the fact that he caught Stiles looking. Shit.

Stiles can feel himself going red from the roots of his hair to his belly button, but he tries to glare instead. The smirk only gets wider. Humiliated, Stiles tries to get up, but a hand on the waistband of his pants pulls him down again.

"What is your dad doing with Chris Argent?" Derek whispers vehemently, his face growing serious. Okay, so it's now established that Derek Hale definitely knows who he is. Good to know, his hopes whisper as they die.

"Horse riding," Stiles responds sarcastically.

"Is that a metaphor?" Derek asks with a frown.

"Oh my god, no," The boy scrubs his face trying to erase that mental image. "They're just having a beer, okay? What are _you _doing here?"

Derek smirks and shows Stiles his hand just in time for him to see claws emerge. Stiles's heart jumps and starts running at a sprint, but Derek turns his attention toward the car. In one slow anguishing move, he makes a long scratch on the side of the black SUV.

"What are you doing?" Stiles starts with a screaming, but finishes with a whisper once he remembers that they're hiding. He's not sure why or from whom they are hiding or if he's not supposed to call for help, though.

"Now we're even," Derek grumbles.

"Seriously? Is that what the big bad wolf does with his free time?! Conduct a prank war with the guy that wants to kill you?"

"You wouldn't know, would you?"

Ouch. Stiles has got to admit that he's failing quite monumentally as a hunter so far, but this is below the belt. Stiles sends the werewolf his best 'I will end you' glare, but it doesn't seem to faze Derek at all. It even looks like it amuses him for a second before he seems to force his face into a serious look - doing something with his eyebrows that should probably be more intimidating than it really is. To Stiles, it just somehow manages to make Derek look like he is trying to poop or something.

"You have no idea what you're getting into. I don't even understand why you want to get involved, but I can tell you that you're going about it the wrong way. You're going to get hurt if you continue with this."

"Is that a threat?"

Derek exhales and shakes his head. "No. Obviously those don't work. So this is me, asking you to stop."

"Oh, if you say so, then," Stiles retorts sarcastically.

"I'm not asking you to do it for _me_. I'm asking you to do it because this is not what your mother would have wanted."

Suddenly Derek turns his head, like a dog hearing something in the distance. Stiles can only look at him, his emotions choking him, preventing any words to escape his throat. The werewolf throws a glance at something beyond the car and before Stiles can do anything to try and catch him, his fist is closing on empty air, and the other man is running away on all fours.

Stiles blinks slowly, and watches Derek disappear out of sight. He can feel the moisture in his eyes, the anger tightening his chest, and the confusion closing up his throat. He feels like someone just dropped an anvil on his head.

"Stiles?" A voice makes him look up. The surprise makes him inhale and realize that he hasn't been breathing, on the verge of a panic attack.

"Stiles, what are you doing here?" His father appears next to Mr. Argent, looming over him as he's still sitting on the ground.

When he notices his dad's worried frown, he forces himself to close his mouth and act casual…which isn't an easy task when you're sitting on the ground of a parking lot in the middle of the night.

"Oh, hey, Dad. I was just um..."

"Scratching my car with a knife?"

Stiles goggles at Chris, before following the hunter's gaze from the car's deep scratches to the knife – his knife - on the ground beside him, where Derek had been just a minute ago. When he looks up, Mr. Argent has an eyebrow raised very high and his father is somewhere between gaping like a fish and glaring with the intensity of a thousand suns.

What the fu…Fucking Derek Hale!


	6. Chapter 5

"Help!" Stiles screams again, hoping someone will hear him.

The soil is very cold under him, the frozen leaves crackling every time he moves. Around him, the forest is becoming more and more menacing as it gets darker and darker - clouds beginning to obscure the crescent moon.

He jumps when he hears rustling to his right, his heart rate picking up speed. The sound is getting louder and louder, something is moving toward him…and fast. Stiles cringes, hoping it's not the unknown beast. He is _so_ screwed if it is.

Derek appears and Stiles releases a breath.

Lesser of two evils, he guesses.

Derek advances toward him, he looks alert, his head tilting as he listens to his surroundings, and is he… sniffing the air?

He crouches next to Stiles, putting a hand on his shoulder and looking him over.

"What happened? Are you okay?" He asks and the actual worry in his voice makes something clench in Stiles' stomach.

"Yeah. I think so."

Stiles sits up, forcing Derek to either stand or fall on his ass.

"Help me up?" Stiles asks extending a hand toward the other boy while he clenches his other fist, taking a deep breath.

The werewolf takes his hand and pulls him up. Stiles opens his free hand as he rises, letting the powder fall where it's needed. The teenager stands up and immediately takes a few steps back. But the confused look on Derek's face somehow spoils Stiles' victory. The older boy tries to take a step toward him and abruptly stops. Stiles can actually pinpoint the exact moment Derek realizes what's happened by the way his face falls for a second before the anger takes over - digging lines on his forehead. Stiles gasps when he blinks and suddenly finds himself standing face to face with an actual transformed werewolf for the first time. It's nothing like he imagined, less hairy and more…wrinkly, he guesses.

"What did you do?" Derek storms, trying to advance on Stiles again and finding himself unable to, his eyes flashing blue in anger.

After the rabbit wizard fiasco, Stiles spent hours searching for genuine wolfsbane. In his search, he'd stumbled across a website that seemed 100% real. With just a couple of e-mails with the owner – a guy that went by the nickname drwolfbane - Stiles was able to determine that this guy really knew what he was talking about. He'd spent the better part of a week on Skype with the stranger and learned a few interesting things, like the existence of mountain ash, and the fact that, if poured into a circle around a werewolf and with a sufficient amount of human belief, it could actually trap the beast for an undetermined amount of time.

He had felt a little bad when he'd realized the best way to trap Derek. He never thought that exploiting his humanity would be how he would catch a werewolf. And frankly he doesn't feel any better now that's he's succeeded in trapping a werewolf. Way worse, in fact.

But Derek knows something about his mother and Stiles needs answers.

"I needed to talk to you," he confesses.

"And you couldn't have just asked?" The man rages.

"So that you could make me fall on my ass and disappear again? No. I couldn't."

Derek changes back to his human mask and looks Stiles squarely in the eye..

"Stiles, let me out," he says slowly, more gently.

Stiles squints, realizing it is the first time the werewolf has used his name. Is he like trying to _wolf charm_ him or something? Because Derek won't stop looking him in the eye and it is very disturbing like he is looking right into his soul or something. Damn, those are fine eyes. Pretty eyes.

Crap, could a werewolf glamour you like the vampires in True Blood? He hadn't read anything about that, but just in case, Stiles focuses his eyes on the ground.

"You said…what you said about my mom. Why did you say that? What do you know about her?"

"I'm not talking if you don't let me go," Derek says stubbornly.

Stiles nods. He didn't think it would be _that_ easy. It never is, is it? He's kind of impressed it had gone so well so far.

He approaches a tree and pulls on the cord he'd rigged there earlier. His backpack drops down. Stiles smirks at Derek. Stiles then extracts a candy bar and his sleeping bag from and his pack and gets comfortable – spreading his sleeping bag out on the ground before sitting down.

"I'm in no rush. When you're ready to talk, I'll be right here," he says, munching on his chocolate.

He's _pretty_ certain he just witnessed a werewolf actually _huffing_ in frustration.

"What is _wrong_ with you? There is an alpha out there killing people, there are hunters wanting to kill _me_, we don't have _time_ for this."

Stiles ignores him, his mind stuck on the word 'alpha'. Is that what's out there? He thought it would be a rogue werewolf, but if it is an actual alpha, this is way more dangerous than he thought. An alpha would seek a pack; an alpha could actually _bite_ people to make them werewolves. It's miracle he hasn't done so already. Oh god, what if he has. What if he is out there biting people and building his own army of monsters. No, not army, _pack_. What if there was a pack out there?

"Wait, did he bite anyone? Does he have a pack? Are you…"

"No, I'm not! That's what I've been telling you from the start, Stiles, I'm not the enemy, I…" He stops abruptly, straightening up and looking around, eyes wide. He looks like he is panicking. Why does Derek look like he is panicking? Derek panicking is so very not good.

"Stiles let me go! He's coming! You have to let me out of here!"

Stiles jumps to his feet, running toward him. He stops three feet from the mountain ash line and looks around.

Wait.

He isn't seeing anything. What if this is a ruse?

He's _not_ falling for that. It's his chance to finally get some answers about his mother. He's not risking it without a good reason. He tries to listen for any suspicious sounds but can't hear anything coming from the trees.

Nope, he's so not falling for that.

He steps back and turns toward Derek.

"Wow, you had me going there for a minute."

"What? Stiles, you have to let me out of here!"

Derek is a very good actor. He really looks terrified. But the thing his, his fear doesn't make any sense. The alpha wouldn't be able to cross the line of mountain ash either, so Derek is actually safer in there than Stiles is out here. Ergo, he must be faking it.

"What do you know about my mom?" Stiles insists.

Derek throws him a glare, but starts turning around within the mountain ash circle almost like he's following something invisible, like there was something running around them. Seriously, this guy needs to get into showbiz. With that face, that body and that talent, he would have his star on Hollywood Boulevard in no time.

"I said, what do you…"-" Stiles stops, freezing when he hears a branch cracking on his left. "What was that?"

Derek sends him the most scathing 'are you fucking stupid' look Stiles has ever seen – and he has seen _a lot_ of those.

A branch cracks on the right and Stiles' muscles tense up so hard that it actually hurts. He turns his head as slowly as he can toward the noise, remembering that wolves like the chase. Two red eyes are glowing in the dark, behind the tree line, just thirty feet from him.

He hears a growl from behind him and yeah, there it is - he has his answer. The alpha _does_ have a pack.

An answering growl comes from beside him and he looks at Derek from the corner of his eye. Derek is in a defensive crouch, his full attention on the alpha, his eyes are glowing blue and his mouth is open, revealing a set of fangs.

Okay. Maybe Stiles has a fighting chance then. That is, if Derek can win against two of those monsters, and that he would actually try to save Stiles in the process. Quite frankly, at this point, Stiles couldn't blame him if he didn't. It's funny how facing certain death makes you realize how much of a pain in the ass you've been.

The clouds are beginning to clear. The light of the moon slowly begins to illuminate the clearing and in doing so, reveals the alpha for the first time. Stiles whimpers. This looks like a full on 'bête du Gevaudan'. Except it looks way scarier than in the books. Or the movies. Bigger and uglier.

"Oh my god, I'm going to die," he panics.

"You need to step into the circle," Derek murmurs insistently.

The beast in front of them snarls, as if to remind them that he can hear them perfectly.

Stiles can't move. He can't. The alpha is ready to pounce; he's just waiting for an excuse. Stiles has no idea where the monster behind him is exactly. For all he knows he's at an arm's distance – at _claw's_ distance - but he doesn't dare look. No excuses. He will give them no excuses. He's…He's a possum. He just has to play dead and they will get bored and go away.

Please let the possum strategy work before he pees himself.

"Stiles. I can't take them both. Not while protecting you too," Derek whispers, "it's just three steps to the right. Take a deep breathe and do it as fast as you can," he encourages.

"I can't," Stiles responds, his voice weak and trembling, barely audible. He's man enough to admit that he has no balls. He's stuck to the spot here. Right now taking those three steps is like being asked to do the New York Marathon, hopping on one foot. He can't do it. He _can't_.

"Okay. It's okay. Just…when I say go, you extend your arm toward me and I will pull you in, okay? You just have to move one arm, that's all."

Stiles is pretty sure the alpha just smirked evilly. The alpha's eyes are fixed on Stiles and he's smirking like he understands exactly what is happening and is up for the challenge. He looks like he's _enjoying_ the idea of a challenge.

"Come on, Stiles. You can do it."

"I…c…can't."

"Yes, you can. Just concentrate on my voice and close your eyes, okay?"

The alpha crouches a little more, ready to pounce. The alpha's belly is on the ground and his behind is wriggling from left to right as if he was wagging his invisible tail in excitement.

Okay. Deep breath. Stiles bites his lip, and closes his eyes.

"Good. Good. Now, prepare to stretch your arm out, okay? Don't…don't open your eyes."

What, why is he saying that, what is hap….

"GO!"

Stiles swears he can actually feel the alpha's hairs grazing his cheek as Derek tugs hard, pulling him – almost flinging him - out of harm's way..

It actually takes Stiles a few seconds before he dares open his eyes again, he's not sure what just happened, not sure if he wants to know where he is.

Is he dead?

No, wait. Something is crushing his torso and his right wrist hurts like hell.

Okay, so he's not dead.

He opens his eyes and sees…skin. He's crushed against Derek, his nose pressed against Derek's collarbone and it takes Stiles a few seconds to realize he's holding onto him for dear life, his fingers going numb where he's clenching the other man's white wife beater. He knows he should let go and play the 'pfff not even scared' part like a tough guy, but frankly, what's the point anymore? A supernatural monster nearly ate him, he doesn't give a shit about his dignity – not that he had much to begin with.

He takes a deep breath and presses heavily against Derek for a few more seconds, willing his heart to calm down. The arms around him squeeze him a little before shaking him and forcing him to get back onto his feet.

Okay, okay, time to man up, then.

He stands up and is going to take a step back when a hand on his waist pulls him back against Derek.

Oh, back to cuddling? He's okay with that.

"The line," Derek warns.

Oh, right.

The circle he made wasn't very large. It definitely wasn't meant to hold two men. He looks down and with some careful adjustments, he manages to have enough space to turn around and look at the clearing. He feels like crying when he sees the alpha sitting only six feet away from him, just looking at him, his tongue dangling from his enormous mouth as he pants like a dog waiting for someone to throw him a ball. Shit, _he_ is the ball. And the alpha looks like he isn't afraid of waiting.

Behind him, a werewolf looking more like Derek – which must mean that it's a beta – is standing in a less relaxed position straining toward them; he looks like he's still ready to pounce.

Stiles squints in the direction of the beta werewolf. Something about him is familiar, his posture, his form, but the clearing is too dark and the beta's face too deformed for Stiles to determine the beta's identity.

What did he say earlier about his plan going smoother than expected? Jeez, he'd jinxed it, hadn't he?

And now, he's going to get _eaten_.

He throws a look at Derek and the baleful glance he gets in return makes him wonder which one of those wolves is going to attack him first.

He honestly has no idea, and he's not looking forward to find out.


	7. Chapter 6

"I'm not scared of you." Stiles says with as much conviction as he can manage, looking the alpha straight in the eye. "You can't touch me. You can't do anything to me while I'm in here."

The alpha suddenly pounces toward him and Stiles jumps back. The arm around his waist, steadying him, is the only thing that keeps Stiles from leaving or damaging the protective circle of mountain ash.

"Are you finished now?" Derek asks, not amused. Unlike the alpha apparently, because Stiles is pretty sure he just heard a chuckle come out of its enormous muzzle. The beast turns around, and moves closer to its beta - who is currently lounging on Stiles's damn sleeping bag - and just, sits there, waiting..

"I had to try."

"To do what exactly?"

"You know," Stiles answers with a shrug. "Tame the beast."

"You know what? Just shut up now, or _I _am going _throw_ you out of this circle."

Stiles pouts.

"Why haven't you, though?" He asks curiously.

The look Derek gives him makes him regret asking. Because now Derek looks like he's seriously considering it…and not finding a lot of reasons against the idea.

Derek wraps his hand around Stiles's forearm and he nearly has a heart attack. Thankfully, Derek only smirks before releasing him, having proven his point. Or so he seems to think. The teenager still doesn't understand what is going on. Why is Derek helping him? Why is he not throwing him to the wolves – literally – to save his own skin? Derek could like knock Stiles out, use him like a giant man eraser to break the line of mountain ash, and run away. Or something. Remember, plans, not one of Stiles's best qualities, even when they are hypothetical.

"So, what's the the plan?" Maybe Derek is better than him at this. God, Stiles hopes so.

"I don't know. We can try to run for it?"

Or not. Jeez, Derek is even worse than him.

Stiles looks at where the two monsters are still waiting. The beta is actually picking his claws. Even if Stiles were to come up with the best plan ever, it's not like he could tell it to Derek with werewolves with enhanced eavesdropping abilities sitting right over there.

Oh but he could write it. He has…oh my god, he has his phone! He pats his pocket and gets the precious object out.

"Yes!" He squeals in victory, shoving the phone in front of Derek's face to show him proudly.

His circle buddy doesn't look impressed. Whatever. Buzzkill.

"Come on, this is great! I can call…" He hesitates for a second. He wants to say the police, but there is no way he's getting his father involved in this. "…the hunters?"

"Yeah, because that's all I need right now, _more_ people to fight."

"If Mr. Argent wanted you dead, you wouldn't be here right now. Come on, this is our best shot, okay? What choice do we…Oh, wait." He turns toward the beast and points to his phone. "Hey guys, see this? I'm one phone call away from having your asses handed to me on a silver platter. I can call and an army gets here ASAP. With guns. Lot of guns. So if I were you, I would run away like… right now," he taunts.

The alpha tilts its head to the side a little before baring his fangs.

"Okay. Last chance?" Stiles asks, trying not to appear intimidated. The beast snarls. "As you wish, then."

He throws one last look at Derek. The werewolf sighs before closing his eyes and nodding grudgingly.

"Oh, wait," Stiles grimaces, looking at his phone desperately. You've got to be kidding

"What is it?"

"I don't…um…actually _have_ the Argents' phone number," He scratches his head, embarrassed. He's pretty sure the face Derek just made qualifies as an official bitchface. An epic one at that. Stiles doesn't dare look up to see what an alpha smug face must look like. "It's okay though. I will just call Scott. I'm pretty sure he has it. Or maybe he could call Allison for me and ask her?"

Derek looks one hundred percent done.

When Scott doesn't answer his phone – damn it Scott! – and Stiles ends up having to call 4-1-1 for some directory assistance, the werewolf looks like he's wishing there was a wall that he could hit his head against.

"I have it!" Stiles declares victoriously a few minutes later. The bitch from the call center put him on _hold_ for God's sake. Listening to Jeopardy theme song while surrounded by werewolves, wanting to chew on his bones, has got to be one of the most awkward moments of his life.

He dials the number to the Argent's household and waits. A woman's voice answers and Stiles tenses for a second, praying that he does have the right number.

"Mrs.…Argent? May I speak to Mr. Argent? Please." He's not one to lose his manners just because he can feel - and smell - the alpha's hot and fetid breath hitting his face. The alpha is looking at him menacingly from one – oh god _one_ – foot away. He knows the alpha can't possibly get any closer than that, but he sure does look like he wants to. Stiles tries to step back, but only manages to bump into Derek. Damn it, why did he draw such a tiny circle?

"He's out, sorry. This is Kate, his sister."

Stiles straightens up. Wow, this is the next best thing! Apparently, Derek must have heard and doesn't think the same. The teen can feel the werewolf's whole body tensing up against his back and he's pretty sure that growl didn't come from the alpha.

Oh. _Right_. She did kill his whole family, didn't she? But…they killed his mom! She didn't have a choice. He's suddenly reminded of who the good guy actually is – or girl – in this situation and Stiles tenses too. Talk about being between a rock and a hard place, he's between an evil alpha monster and a probably-but-maybe-not-evil werewolf. Again, _how_ is this his life?

"This is…um…Stiles," He hesitates, feeling even more tension in the air. Kate makes a non-committal noise, not seeming to recognize the name. Oh fuck it. "Um…Stalker Stilinski?" He supplies, half-grumbled.

"Oh! Hey, kid!"

"I'm kind of in a situation right now," The alpha growls menacingly toward him and Stiles squeaks. "I would really appreciate a little help. The kind with heavy weaponry? Please," he ends with a small voice, his throat suddenly very tight.

He's managed to stay very calm so far, but he can feel his control weakening. It's as if talking about what is happening to him to someone that isn't in the middle of this nightmare is making it way more real.

He doesn't know if Kate heard the snarl or if she's hearing the fear in his voice – probably both - but her voice is suddenly very serious.

"Where are you?"

"Two miles east of the Hale house."

"Are you in a secure location?" From the background noise it sounds as if she's already preparing to come and kick some ass..

"K…Kind of?"

"Don't move unless you have no choice, okay? Stay hidden. We're coming."

She hangs up and Stiles puts the phone back into his pocket with trembling hands. He jumps a little when a hand lands on his shoulder. He turns toward Derek and tries to smile reassuringly.

The cavalry is coming; this is a good thing, right? But the beginning of his smile falls immediately when he sees the expression on Derek's face. Every line on his face is set in anger, but when his eyes meet Stiles's, the boy only sees terror in the hazel eyes of the werewolf.

Unable to hold his gaze, Stiles looks down.

He's gotten what he wanted, hasn't he? He's delivering Derek right into the hands of the hunters. The last of the family responsible for his mother's death, and he will have been the one to bring him down. All the monsters that took his mom away from him will finally have disappeared.

His mom will be avenged.

It's supposed to be a good thing, right?

So why does he feel so horrible?

Behind him, the alpha starts to howl.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx xxx

Stiles clenches his fists. The more time passes, the more he begins to tremble. His heartbeat must be deafening for the werewolf standing next to him. Stiles's throat feels so tight that he can barely breathe. The only thing keeping him from having a full on panic attack right now is probably the vestige of his survival instincts, the adrenaline pumping in his veins.

He can't hear any noises, but he knows from the werewolves' reactions when the hunters reach the forest.

The alpha is pacing, preparing for a fight, sniffing the air to try and identify its enemies.

The beta is less sure. He seems nervous, throwing glances at his alpha, waiting for instructions, poised – ready to run. It's becoming quite clear that this guy wants to run away, but knows that it won't be tolerated.

Beside him, Derek hasn't moved an inch since Stiles hung up the phone. He's tense, fists clenched, and observing the horizon as if he can actually see the hunters approaching even though they must still be at least a mile away.

Stiles scratches his head nervously. He can't take this tension. He hates being the only one not hearing what is happening out there. How many hunters are there? Why isn't the alpha running away?

"Please run away. Please." He mumbles nervously, hands clutching his head.

He doesn't want the alpha to survive this, but he doesn't actually want to be here for this fight. He wants…He wants for this to stop. He wants to go home.

He's not a hunter.

Who was he kidding? This isn't Wolf of Warcraft, those are real monsters with real claws. _Death_ is real. He's never stared it in the face like before, and he isn't very proud of how he is doing right now.

He never thought he was that brave to begin with, but he always had this secret belief that in a dire situation, he would know what to do. That when the moment came he would be the one that tries to save people. He always wanted to be a hero, but he's not cut out to be one. He's just a clumsy kid with attention problems and stupid ideas.

God, what was he thinking going after Derek alone?

Derek could have killed him anytime he wanted. He could have killed him a hundred times by now.

But he hasn't.

That's the most troubling thing in all this. He's made this guy's life a living hell. Stalked him, attacked him, imprisoned him, and now, because of him, the werewolf will be at the mercy of hunters. So why?

Why the hell isn't he _doing _anything?

Stiles turns toward Derek. His eyes are wide and he's almost panting as he waits for the enemy to appear, knowing that he won't be able to do anything against them. They will come with guns and all he can do is stay in this little circle and wait to be shot at.

Stiles can hear them now, frost-tinged leaves cracking, branches breaking, and the heavy sounds of boots running toward them.

The sound of guns being cocked.

It's like time stops to take a breath before it all begins. Silence invades the clearing for just one second.

The second passes, the alpha snarls, and suddenly the forest is alive with sounds. The sound of dozens of guns being fired at the same time is deafening, Stiles discovers.

He can only stand there for the second that follows, eyes wide, searching for the people coming to save him.

Then, suddenly, there is _pain_.

Numb, Stiles looks down and sees blood staining his shirt.

_His_ blood. He doesn't understand it. This isn't how it was supposed to happen.

He was going be saved.

How can it be worse than it was five seconds ago? This doesn't make any sense.

He looks up but all he can see in the dark are shadows and quick flashes of light as weapons are fired. Loud shots are sometimes interrupted by a scream, a snarl, or a growl.

Stiles blinks.

Less than ten seconds have passed before he falls to the ground.


	8. Chapter 7

Stiles wakes when someone shook him.

"Hey, you okay there?" A woman's voice asks. Stiles blinks, his vision is blurry and his head is hurting like hell. He sits up and is greeted with a shooting pain in his side. He looks down and sees the blood on his shirt.

"No, I'm not. You shot me!" He lifts his shirt to inspect the wound.

"Barely." Kate snorts. It looks like the bullet just grazed him, thank god.

"How did I…?" He touches his forehead and winces. That hurts way more than the bullet wound.

"Big boy there fell on you." She points behind him. "Must have knocked your head on the ground. Good thing too, he took the brunt of the damage."

Stiles turns around and feels his heart sink when he sees Derek's bloody body face down on the ground behind him. His back is riddled with wounds.

"Oh my god, is he _dead_?" He asks, patting the werewolf's body. Stiles flips him over and takes Derek's face between his hands, trying to rouse him. Derek moans, but remains unconscious, but at least he's breathing and finally Stiles feels like _he_ can breathe again.

"Not yet."

The boy turns toward the woman as she gestures at two men. One hunter grabs Derek's feet as the other one grabs a hold under Derek's arms.

"What…What are you going to do to him? What, what about the alpha?" He looks around. Did they kill him? Is it over?

"The other two got away. But this one should help us find them."

"Der…He's not with them. He doesn't know who they are or wh…"

"And you trust his word? He knows more than he lets on. Believe me. We were going to let him lead us to the others, but we can't exactly pass up the chance to get our hands on him. I guess I'll have to speed up my brother's plan a little. You okay to go home, kid?"

"Go ho…I'm not going home! What are you going to do to him?"

"Look, this doesn't concern you. Be happy you made it out alive tonight and go home."

She gestures again at the two men and they leave with Derek, the werewolf moaning at the manhandling, leaving a trail of blood droplets. Kate goes to follow them but Stiles stops her.

"_I _was the one to trap him. And from what it looks like_,_ _I'm _the reason you got the closest you've ever been to capturing the alpha_,_" He reminds her with conviction.

Kate stops and gives Stiles an appraising look. He straightens up and grits his teeth, holding her gaze with determination.

"My brother told me you want to become a hunter, isn't that right?"

"Y…Yes. Yes," He repeats with more conviction than he actually has. Is that still what he wants?

"All right. Your work was sloppy and your plan stupid, but it was kind of brave. You want to fight this fight and you're in."

"Your brother said that I was too y…"

"My brother is naïve. He still thinks we can win this war by playing fair," She points towards the tree line where Stiles notices for the first time that there's at least two bodies on the ground. "_They_ aren't. And they sure don't deserve our mercy. Go home and rest. If you still want to be a hunter tomorrow, I'll teach you what you need to know. How does that sound?"

"Gr…Great. Thanks."

"No problem, kid. You deserve it," She bumps his shoulder with her fist, before winking at him and disappearing back into the woods.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

When he gets home, his father is not there, out working the night shift. Stiles tends to his wounds as best as he can before falling into bed, exhausted. Now that the adrenaline has left his body, he can feel the impact of the night in the way every part of his body hurts.

As expected, the bullet wound is little more than a deep cut on his right side. His head still hurts and from the way his room keeps swimming, he's pretty sure he has a concussion. His right wrist is swollen and it's difficult to move it around, but he has had enough broken bones in his clumsy life to know that it isn't actually broken. He's pretty sure he'll have some impressive bruises in the shape of Derek's fingerprints onto his skin for at least a few days though.

Despite his bone deep exhaustion, he can't sleep. Every time he closes his eyes, he sees Derek's bloody body on the ground, immobile. Kate says that he fell on top of him, that Stiles was lucky the werewolf's body covered him and from the number of wounds on Derek's back, she's right. Had Derek not covered him, those bullets would be in Stiles right now.

There's just something not right with that picture.

Two things are bothering Stiles leaving him awake and uncertain.

He knows from the position he was in when he woke up that when he had fallen, his body had broken the line of mountain ash. Derek could have just run away.

But he was hurt right? That's what Kate said, that he got shot and fell on him, saving him by accident.

The thing is, the hunters' attack came from the front. Derek was behind him. The force of the shots would have caused him to fall backward, not forward.

Stiles can't keep the image of Derek's bloody body out of his mind. It's engraved there in vivid detail. But the thing is, Stiles can't remember seeing any wounds on the front of Derek's body. All of the wounds were on his back, which means he got them _after_ he fell down on top of Stiles.

So, what made him fall forward? More importantly, even if Derek got shot first, how could one shot make him fall over when a dozen didn't kill him? And the strangest thing, the thing that bothers Stiles the most, is why, why on earth didn't Derek try to run?

The circle was broken, he was free, why didn't he just get up and run? He could have made it out during the chaos of the fight. He could have run away. One shot doesn't stop a werewolf.

It doesn't make any sense.

In the end that is what makes him grab his phone the next morning and call Kate Argent. He's not sure he wants to become a hunter anymore, but he needs to understand what happened in that clearing. Because he tries and tries and tries again, but none of the scenarios he can imagine can explain that what transpired last night proves that Derek is the monster he's supposed to be.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

"So where are you at so far? Do you know how to fight? Have you ever shot a gun?" Kate asks while they're walking in the woods towards god knows where.

"Um…" Stiles has a feeling this will become embarrassing very fast. His father had wanted to teach him to shoot once. Stiles accidentally broke the Sheriff's nose before he even had the occasion to actually shoot the gun. This is a story that they are both too humiliated to even acknowledge though, so he's certainly not going to tell it to Kate badass-hunter Argent. She probably shot her first gun when she was, like, five years old. And pierce a perfect bulls eye into the target.

"Have you even thrown a punch before in your life?" She seems skeptical. She has reason to be. His efforts trying to buff up at the gym were even more disastrous that his first – and last - experience with a gun. But for the sake of his dignity, he's just going pretend that all his roughhousing with Scott was real training. Yeah, he's going to go with that.

"More often than my dad would have liked." He responds attempting to sound cocky. She smiles as if she's buying it.

"Yeah, your dad is the Sheriff, right? Could be useful to have some help from the police department." She starts walking again. He stops her with a hand on her wrist, letting her go as soon as she turns and throws a look at the hand daring to touch her.

"My dad has _nothing_ to with this. He is not to be involved."

"Werewolves killed his wife; I think he already is, sweetie."

"Just because he knows they exist doesn't mean he has to hunt them."

Kate gauges him for a few seconds before nodding. "It's a waste of resources if you ask me, but I get it. I won't tell him anything about our little…get together, don't worry."

"Thanks."

They start walking back and Stiles thinks he recognizes this part of the forest. Are they walking toward the Hale house? Oh god, he hopes she doesn't want to actually go there, that place still gives him the creeps.

"Where are we going?"

"It's a surprise," she announces with a bright smile.

She really is a beautiful woman, Stiles notices. She kind of makes him uncomfortable though. Growing up, he had started worshipping her a little. She was the hero that avenged his mother after all. But now, he can't help wondering what kind of hero would let her men shoot in the direction of a sixteen year old and not even offer him a ride to the hospital afterwards. Doesn't seem very heroic to him. But maybe the fact that he can't fathom what actually happened last night is impacting his perception of the situation?

She suddenly stops. From here, Stiles can see the Hale house, half a mile away, but instead of going toward it Kate leads Stiles down a slope. He follows her and sees a door he's never noticed before. The woman opens it and waves for him to enter.

It's broad daylight outside, but as soon as the door is closed behind them, everything gets really dark and creepy. She leads him through a tunnel that smells like dirt and dampness, but, thankfully, not like smoke.

"What is this place?"

"Every monster needs his own private playground, right? This was the Hales'," She declares, pointing toward the far wall on the right where Stiles notices two cells. He abruptly stops when he realizes what those cells must have been for. Was his mom put in one of those? Is it where she died? He brought a hand to his stomach, suddenly nauseous.

"She wasn't brought here," Kate answers and Stiles realizes he asked that out loud.

"Wh…What did they do to her?"

The hunter looks down at her hands for a second, before stepping in front of him, squeezing his shoulder, forcing Stiles to meet her gaze

"You don't want to hear that. You don't need to know that. All you need to know is that they killed her. I saw them kill her. I'm sorry I couldn't do anything to save her, Stiles."

She sounds sorry, but Stiles can see the rage in her eyes, the hate burning in them. He's never seen such hate before and it intimidates him into lowering his eyes , uncomfortable.

"Was Derek…" he can't help but ask. Because he used to hate werewolves before he met one. Now, he isn't sure anymore. Kate must sense his hesitation because she's suddenly squeezing his shoulder a little too hard. She grabs his jaw and forces him to look at her.

"Derek knew perfectly well what his family had planned. It's what they do, Stiles. It's what they all do. They can't help it."

"All of them?"

"Yes," She responds with conviction. "Don't be fooled; don't ever let yourself be fooled. They're smart, they're manipulators. That makes them even more dangerous. You get that?"

Stiles can't meet her gaze, he _can't_, but the hand holding his face forces him to look. He nods and her touch gentles. Her hand slides until it's on his cheek, a calming touch, reassuring.

"I'm trusting you here, Stiles. We can't do this if you're not aware of how dangerous the monster in there is. I need you on the same wavelength as me or we're not doing this at all."

"I am. I just…"

"There is no 'just'. They killed your mother. Derek is one of them. And now they are killing other people, innocent people. I'm not doing this for fun, okay? We need to do what we need to do in order to find the alpha and his young beta. Because if we don't, they're going to kill again, but this time, it's going to be on _us_. So I need you to get in there and be with me. Can you do that? It's okay if you can't, you can still go home, call your friends or do your homework instead, whatever. You choose. But you need to choose your side _right now_, all right?"

Stiles nods. She's right. There are monsters killing people out there. Derek is one of them. The werewolf may not have killed _him_ when he had the chance, but that doesn't automatically make him innocent in regards to hurting other people. Stiles doesn't _know_ he hadn't. If Derek's family were monsters, then Derek must be one too. He can't help it, it's what he _is_, Stiles repeats to himself.

Kate seems to notice the renewed conviction in his eyes because she smiles warmly and pats him amiably on the cheek once before letting him go.

"Come on, come see your gift!" She announces, moving backward until she reaches a huge metal door.

She winks once before turning around and opening the door. At first, it's too dark for Stiles to see anything as he goes through the doorway, but suddenly the light is turned on and there it is.

Derek is chained to the wall, chest naked, and arms tied over his head. On his right side, some tape holds wires against his skin. Stiles follows the length of the wire as it leads to a rusty looking machine. Kate is standing next to the table, one hand on the machine, while her other arm makes a wide sweeping gesture.

"Welcome to your first lesson of hunter training, I call it: _Werewolf and Electricity: The True Face of the Monster_." She announces, smiling proudly.

She flips a switch and a static buzz resonates throughout the room. A few seconds later, the sound is covered up by Derek's roars as he voices his pain and anger, his face transforming before Stiles' eyes. Derek's straining against his bonds; trying to stretch toward Kate as much as he can. In that moment, he looks like an aggressive dog, actually snapping his jaws as if trying to bite the hunter.

Stiles is brutally reminded of what Derek truly is. He's not human and he's not _innocent_. He's a werewolf with fangs and claws. There's nothing human about the look in his eyes. He looks wild and dangerous, a threat to the human race.

He finally looks like what he truly is: One of the monsters responsible for his mom's death.


	9. Chapter 8

"See this, Stiles?" Kate asks, trying to grab Derek's face, laughing when he tries to bite her hand off. "Does it look human to you?" She finally catches the werewolf's jaw and squeezes until he has no choice but to open his mouth. "Come on, come closer, you won't get many chances to see one this close without having your head ripped off, believe me."

Stiles hesitates, shuffling his feet, before stepping forward.

"See, these?" She says pointing to Derek's fangs. "They can cut right through the hardest metal in one bite." Immediately, Derek retracts them, his face changing back to his human one. "Oh, that's not nice," Kate says with a pout. "Stiles, sweetie, go to the machine over there and put it on forty, will you?"

Stiles tenses, looking from the machine to Derek in horror.

"It's okay, it won't hurt him," Kate says reassuringly. "…Much," she adds, innocently shrugging. "See, Stiles, my family has been studying werewolves for a long time. Turns out that when a certain voltage is applied they can't keep from changing into their true form. Turn it higher, and they don't have the energy to transform anymore. Even higher than that, and_ that's_ when it becomes very interesting, when they can't even heal anymore. When all their powers just," she caresses the sides of Derek's face and he can't keep his eyes from flashing blue in anger "…vanish."

The werewolf struggles against the touch, but she's still holding his jaw firmly and in his weakened state, he can't do much.

"Now turn the damn knob, will you?" She orders.

Stiles swallows nervously before looking back down at the machine. He breathes deep, trembling, before he turns the dial until it reaches forty. When he hears Derek's scream, Stiles closes his eyes and bites his lip until he can taste blood.

"Good. Now come here for lesson two." Kate calls to him. He doesn't move. He doesn't want to. He can't do this. This is not like him; this is not what he wants to be, what he thought a hunter was. The glee in Kate's voice is terrifying him. She looks like she's _enjoying_ this.

He jumps when an arm wraps around his shoulders.

"You okay there? I know it's a little tough for a first lesson, but that's how you have to be with these _things_. If the situation was reversed, do you think, he…" She forces Stiles to look upon Derek grimacing wolf face, as he clenches his teeth, biting back his screams as the electricity continues to rack his body. "would show you any mercy?"

But he did, Stiles can't help but think. Derek _did _show him mercy.

Kate must see the change in his expression because she chuckles.

"Of course, he did." She says drolly, rolling her eyes. "Got a little crush there, Derek?"

Stiles's eyes widen. The werewolf just glares at Kate as she drags the boy closer to him, her arm still wrapped casually around his shoulders.

"Oh don't worry, I get it. Those eyes with those lips, I can totally see the appeal!" Stiles blushes, feeling very uncomfortable with the turn of events. She turns toward the young boy. "You think that makes him human? They are still animals, Stiles. Some just…" She scratches her nail down Derek's exposed chest until she reaches his bellybutton, which in turn makes him twitch and fight against his bonds. She licks her lips before smiling at his reaction. "like to play with their food, first."

Stiles can't help but jump back, leaving Kate's embrace, as Derek suddenly surges toward them with a roar.

"See?" Kate says with a nod, not impressed by Derek's fury, as she turns and marches menacingly towards the machine. "Don't get any ideas in that pretty head of yours; you were just delicious jailbait to the big bad wolf. As soon as you had given him what he wanted, he would have eaten you…" She flips the switch and Derek's roar of rage turns to one of pain and despair "…_and_ your grandmother."

Stiles closes his eyes, bile rising in his throat, as the acrid smell of burning flesh suddenly fills the room.

"Hey."

Stiles jumps when he hears Scott's voice.

He's sitting on the floor of his room, his back to the bed, looking at the picture of Derek and Laura as kids.

When he woke up this morning, his father had taken one look at him, told him to go back to bed, and then had called the school to inform them of Stiles' absence. If that wasn't enough of an indication that Stiles looked like hell, he didn't know what was.

He had spent another night unable to sleep, turning in his bed, wishing he could get Derek out of his mind. What he had witnessed Kate do to Derek, the sound of Derek's screams; he couldn't get the horrors of yesterday out of his head. Every time he thinks about it, he feels like throwing up again, and only his empty stomach prevents him from actually doing it.

He can try and convince himself that Derek isn't human as much as he wants, but every time he closes his eyes, he sees little Derek smiling at him from the photograph. He wonders if Derek is still able to smile like that.

He wonders if he will ever smile again.

Derek hadn't talked at all despite Kate's insistence. He hadn't looked at Stiles either, not since they were confined within the mountain ash circle and Stiles hadn't expected that to hurt so much.

Scott sits on the bed beside his friend and bumps his knee into Stiles' shoulder. The Sheriff's son hides the photograph under his thigh, not ready or willing to explain the photograph to his best friend.

"You weren't at school, I was worried." Scott confesses.

"Yeah, I think I'm coming down with something, I'm not feeling too well."

"What happened to your head?" Scott asks, pointing to Stiles's forehead where the gash has turned yellow and blue.

"You know me…" He offers in explanation, shrugging.

"Stiles, I know I have been kind of…preoccupied lately, with Allison and all. But…you would talk to me if something bad was happening, right?"

Stiles bites his lip. He wishes he could talk with his best friend, with someone, anyone really, but he can't bring him into this. He would never risk Scott's life just because he's feeling like crap. He _can't_ tell him the truth.

"I'm fine, but thanks, man."

"No, you're not!" Scott explodes, frustrated. "We've barely seen each other lately, and I know I didn't make a lot of effort, but you didn't either. It's like…you barely talk to anyone anymore. You don't text, you don't Skype and you're just…You're not yourself anymore, Stiles. Lydia broke up with Jackson a week ago and it's like you don't even care."

Stiles's eyebrows rise. She did? How did he miss that? Love of his life is finally single two weeks before the Winter Formal and he didn't even know about it. Scott must see the surprise on his face, because he gapes like a fish before pointing at him with both hands.

"See?! You would never have missed that unless something else was on your mind." Scott accuses. "Or _someone_ else."

Stiles tenses as he remembers Derek's face.

"Oh my god, there is?!" Scott erupts. When did his best friend become so observant anyway?

"No, of course not, Lydia is the love of my life, you know that."

"And you still have two years to prove it to her. That's your long-term plan, right? It doesn't mean you can't like anyone else in the meantime," his friend flops to the floor beside him and looks at him expectantly. "Come on, tell me. Who is it?"

"There's no…" He closes his eyes for a second when his voice starts to break. He can't do this, he can't keep this in, this is too much, too _heavy _on his mind, his heart and his conscience at the same time. "I don't know what to do, Scott," He confesses, biting his cheek, trying not to cry, his throat is closing up and his voice is trembling already. "It wasn't supposed to be like this. It was supposed to be simple. Manichaean. But now it's like everything has gone to shit and I don't know…" His voice breaks on a sob and he hides his face in his hands, gasping for breaths. Immediately, Scott wraps himself around him like the giant octopus he has always been.

"It's going to be okay. You'll see. Why don't you tell me everything about this Mani…Manica? Malicka?"

Stiles laughs into his friend's shoulder. He sits up and wipes his face before lowering his gaze, picking at his jeans.

"I think I made a bad choice. But the thing is, I can't know for sure. It's like my head thinks it was a right choice, but my heart is screaming to me how wrong it was, but the next second, my heart decides it was the _right _choice, and suddenly my head is telling me how wrong it was, you know?" he babbles.

He chuckles again when he sees his friend's confused expression.

"This girl, do you like her?"

"I…I think I like him, yes," Stiles admits. "But there are so many things that tell me I shouldn't…"

"So what?" His friend interrupts him. "Allison's father ran me over with his car, her mom threatened to castrate me with a breadknife and I'm pretty sure her aunt is hitting on me. But somehow, I know that my place is beside Allison, you know? So I don't care. And you shouldn't either! It's like…There are all these people wanting us not to be together, all those reasons why we shouldn't be, why this shouldn't work, but…I still want to be by her side. I don't care what people will think or say or...or do. I know all that and I still want to be with her. I think that proves that I should, you know? If despite all the odds I still want to try and give us a chance. So I guess, the question is, do you?"

"Wow, great speech. Did you practice on the way here or something?" he taunts.

"Shut up. Did it help?"

"I think it did, actually," Stiles said, grimacing as if that is the strangest thing.

Scott is right; he needs to follow his gut. It's what his mom used to say too, that instincts were there for a reason and they were generally right. Right now, his instincts are screaming him that this situation is wrong. Derek deserves a chance to prove himself, to prove that he isn't the monster that he looks like during the full moon. It's not rational, and it goes against everything he believed in during the last six years, but somehow he feels like he should trust him. Hell, forget about gut instincts, Derek was actually the one to save him when he got shot at by _Kate_.

To be honest, he feels like he doesn't know anything anymore, like there are too many unknown variables involved for him to understand what is really going on. He shouldn't have gotten involved and now, he needs to rethink his position.

"Are you going to tell me about it then?" Scott asks with hope.

"Nope." Stiles announces before standing up.

"Come on, why is it such a secret? Oh my god, he isn't married, is he?!"

"What, no!" Stiles responds indignantly.

"Is it Danny?"

"Wow, that's narrow-minded. There are other gay guys in the world, you know?" He teases.

"Yeah, _you_, apparently. How did I not know that?" Scott says with a pout, like it really hurt him that Stiles didn't tell him about what he prefers his date to have in their pants.

To be honest, Stiles still isn't sure about that himself.

He used to love imagining what was under Lydia's shirt and….yeah, no, he still likes that idea very much. But somehow, he has to admit that he likes Derek without a shirt very, very much too. And Derek's _face_. And he wouldn't mind getting to know a little more about what is in his p…He shakes his head to stop this train of thought. This is _so_ not the time.

Anyway, he may like Derek's body, but that isn't why he's doing this.

Because he is. Doing this. He's not exactly sure what _this_ is exactly, but he's pretty sure Kate isn't going to like it though.

"Hey, did you say Allison's aunt was hitting on you?"

"Yes. I have so many things to tell you, man, these last few weeks have been crazy. See, Mr. Argent invited me to dinner and…"

"Sorry I…I've got to go, actually. But you can tell me all about Allison later, okay? I just…Could you go and grab a coffee with her aunt, maybe?"

"What, like…right now?"

"Yes, that would be awesome!" He steals Scott's phone from his pocket and sends a quick message to Kate, asking her to meet him at the coffee shop ASAP.

"What are you doing?!" Scott shouts, taking his phone back a second too late. "Are you crazy? Why would I do that?!"

"You know to…get to know the family? It looks like she's the only one approving of you so far, so you should definitely try to rally her to your side."

"By _dating_ her?" Wow, he didn't know Scott's voice could reach notes that high.

"It's coffee. And a bagel, maybe. You should definitely buy her a bagel, everyone likes cheese," Stiles announces while putting on his jacket.

"I'm not going to buy her a bage-" Scott starts to protest, cut off by his phone beeping. He looks at it and his eyes grow wide. "Oh my god she said yes!"

"Great. Be a gentleman and she will love you, you'll see." Stiles declares, messing up Scott's hair before running toward the stairs. He stops at the top of the stairs and runs back. "Scott?" Scott is still frozen in the middle of the room, gaping at his phone, mouth open and looking very confused. He looks up and Stiles smiles at him. "You're the best, you know that, right?"

"And you're the _worst_!" Scott screams behind him as Stiles runs out of the house.

Stiles gets into his car and is ready to pull out of the driveway when the passenger door opens. A stranger gets in the car and sits next to him.

"Drive." He commands just as Stiles is about to ask him what the hell he thinks he's doing.

The man turns toward him and cocks an eyebrow expectantly when Stiles doesn't obey. "Or do you need more incentive?"

Stiles can only watch in terror as the man's eyes turn red and fangs start to emerge, forming a menacing snarl.


	10. Chapter 9

"This better not be a joke," the alpha growls when Stiles parks in front of the Hale house.

"What happens after you find Derek?" Stiles inquires hesitantly.

The alpha gives no response and gets out of the car. Stiles briefly considers just locking the car doors and driving away, but he can't. He can't just run away. Stiles gets out of the car.

"You're going to kill people, aren't you?" Stiles asks, more a statement than a question.

"Only the responsible ones." The werewolf answers calmly.

"Responsible for what?"

"You have no idea who I am, do you?"

"You're the alpha."

"That's just a _title_."

"Why are you going after Derek?" Stiles asks, confused. He refuses to play this guy's game of 'Guess Who' and he doesn't understand why the alpha would attack another werewolf, especially when he's incapacitated and at the enemy's mercy.

"I'm not going _after_ Derek. My nephew has many faults, but he doesn't deserve to die for them."

"Your _nephew_," Stiles repeats, stunned. "But…in the woods, you…"

"He needed to be reminded who's in charge here, but my intention was never to kill him."

"You want him to be in your pack," Stiles realizes.

"Do you know why wolves hunt in packs? It's because their favored prey are too large to be brought down by one wolf alone. I _need_ Derek. After all, I'm only doing what he never had the guts to do himself." Peter admits with a shrug. "Now," Peter drawls, positioning a clawed hand around Stiles' neck drawing him closer to whisper in his ear. "Where is my dear nephew?"

"Peter?" Derek's eyes widen with shock when he sees his uncle enter the impromptu torture chamber. "You're the alpha," the younger werewolf realizes. Derek looks down for a second, before his eyes are back on his uncle, the shock and surprise transforming into anger and betrayal. "_You_ _killed_ _Laura_," he accuses his voice breaking with the heavy emotion.

"You think I killed Laura on purpose? A member of my own family?" Peter seems shocked at the idea that Derek would think that, his voice breaking on the word 'family'. "My mind was literally burned out of me. I was driven by pure instinct." He closes his eyes for a second, shaking his head as if remembering the scene.

Stiles takes in his surroundings and takes a step back. This is his chance. If he wants to make a run for it, he has to do it right now while Peter's attention is focused on Derek. He turns around and prepares to run. He doesn't even take a step before the hand is back on his neck, making Stiles freeze and grimace as the claws dig into his skin.

"All I'm asking for is a little understanding," Peter continues as if Stiles wasn't even there.

The alpha sighs before tossing Stiles through the air like he weighs nothing. The boy crashes into the table, and the wood gives way with the force of the impact. Stiles falls to the floor amidst a flurry of splinters and wood chips . He grimaces when pain erupts in his shoulder.

"Do you know what it was like for me during those years? Slowly healing, cell by cell. Even more slowly coming back to consciousness. Yes, becoming an Alpha, taking that from Laura pushed me over a plateau in the healing process. I can't help that."

Moaning in pain, Stiles looks up and sees that Peter is standing in front of Derek, trying to look him in the eyes. Derek is staring resolutely at the ground.

"You have to understand, Derek." Peter demands. "After all, we're family. You know why I killed those people. You know that they deserved it. And there are more. It's our mission now. I need you _with _me."

The alpha puts a hand on his nephew's cheek and Stiles can see Derek close his eyes. After a few seconds, he looks up into his uncle's eyes and nods.

Peter breaks the other werewolf's bonds and helps him stand as Derek is still weak from Kate's torture. Derek rips off the electric cables taped to his side and throws them to the ground. They land right in front of Stiles. When the boy looks up, both werewolves are looking at him.

Shit, he was hoping that they would forget he was there.

His heart starts to race as he looks around him desperately searching for something to defend himself with. Stiles grabs a pointy piece of wood from the broken table and tries to stand up, but before he can, something is lifting him and pressing him into the wall. He shivers in terror when Peter's eyes flash red, only inches from his face. Claws dig into his arm and he releases his makeshift weapon.

"Now, should we send Ms. Argent a message? I have a few ideas that would make for an especially eloquent, if not obvious, statement." Peter proposes, smiling evilly.

Stiles is pretty sure he starts to see his life flash before his eyes when the alpha bends down, his fangs brushing his throat. When Derek stops him and Stiles nearly pisses himself in relief, and he thanks all the gods he knows of.

"He's Lisa's son."

Stiles's heart stops for a second; even his fear is forgotten as he looks at Derek in surprise. His surprise only increases when Peter releases him, his eyes as wide as those of the young boy.

"Well, that's an intriguing twist." Peter admits, raising his eyebrows. He catches Stiles's chin between two of his claws and moves his head around, studying him, as Stiles can only gasp in confusion. "Lisa did have pretty good genes. I always told her that she shouldn't have wasted them with that sheriff of hers."

Stiles bats the hand away, straightening up and glaring at the man. "_You_ don't get to say her name." He rages.

"Cute." Peter scoffs. "Son, I've known your mother since before she was even old enough to _conceive_ you. I'll say her name if I w…"

"What?" Stiles interrupts, flabbergasted. That doesn't make any sense.

"We've got to go before Kate comes back." Derek reminds his uncle, holding himself on the opposite wall, still too weak to affront his torturer. Peter just looks at his nephew, gauging him before nodding.

He winks at Stiles and pats his cheek, before going to help the other werewolf walk away.

No, no. Stiles needs answers. There's no way Derek is running away again. How do they know his mom? What did Peter mean? How is that _possible_?

He runs after them and grabs Derek's arm to stop him.

"You have to tell me w-" He's interrupted as the man suddenly turns around and Stiles is slammed once again against a wall.

"You are seriously running out of 'get out of this alive' cards here." Derek rages, glowering at him.

"Look, I'm sorry ab…"

"About what? Being such a pain in the ass? About _torturing_ me? Nearly getting me _killed_?" Derek shouts at him.

"All of the above? You've got to underst…"

"I'm through trying to understand you!" He slams Stiles against the wall once again before dropping him. Stiles cries in pain as he falls to the ground. "I've protected you out of respect for your mother, but it's _over_. I swear," Derek hisses, his eyes flashing blue. "You come anywhere near me again, and I _will _kill you."

With that, he turns around and storms out, limping a little.

"Hmm. What he said," Peter acquiesces, looking rather amused, before following his nephew.


	11. Chapter 10

"Oh my god, are you okay?" Scott worries when he sees Stiles sitting on the hospital bed.

"No I'm not. Your mom is a torturer," Stiles grumbles as he finishes getting his shirt back on. He grimaces at his own choice of words.

"What happened to you? I saw this guy getting in your car, then I saw his eyes turn red and next thing I know my mom is calling me to tell me you're in the hospital!" Scott freaks out, babbling.

Stiles had no idea Scott saw Peter.

It turned out that his brutal meeting with the table earlier was too much for his shoulder. With all the wall slamming he had going on, his whole body was hurting so much he didn't even realize that something was actually wrong with his shoulder until he tried to lean on it to hop into his jeep. Man, that was a bad idea.

"What? No, that guy just wanted a lift," He lies. "I fell down the stairs."

"Really? Because he looked kind of creepy and I swear his eyes…"

"Come on, Scott, don't be stupid. Eyes flashing red, seriously?" He scoffs.

He bites his lip when he sees the hurt on his friend's face. Scott was very insecure about his intelligence. He nearly needed to repeat a class more than once because of his bad grades and people – like Jackson, that asshole – didn't hesitate to call him an idiot to his face because of it. It has always been kind of an unspoken rule that Stiles would never do it, even as a joke.

"I'm sorry, man, I…" He tries to correct, but is interrupted by Mrs. McCall entering with the Sheriff.

"Scott, could you leave us alone for a few minutes, please?" she demands her son gently.

Scott nods and gets out before Stiles can actually make up for what he said and he sighs. Apparently, hating Stiles is trending today. Not that he doesn't deserve it. And from the look on his father's face, it's just the beginning of his problems. Fuck this day.

"Stiles, would you care to tell me what happened to your shoulder, please?" His dad asks, way too formally for it to be anything else than the beginning of a questioning. He's even using his cop voice, even though he sounds like he's trying not to.

Time to be convincing. For once.

"I, uh," he flails for a second. "I had just got home and I was going to grab a glass of milk and…well, you know me, I ran a little too fast, didn't pay attention and fell down the stairs."

"When was this?"

"I don't know, about a hour ago? I thought it was just a bruise coming up, you know, but then I leaned a little too much on it and it hurt very badly." He looks to his lap. He hates lying to his dad. But it wasn't just a matter of protecting himself anymore, he was protecting his dad too. If what the werewolves said was true, there is a lot that Stiles and his father don't know about his mother's death and he is not going to involve his dad until he knows for certain if it's true. Because if Peter and Derek knew his mom like they said they did, then there were a whole lot of things that don't make sense anymore.

"Okay," His dad says. Stiles feels like sighing in relief when it looks like he believes him.

"Can we go home now? Please?"

"Yeah, just…Just another little question," The Sheriff points out. "Did you fall down the stairs before or after you got shot?"

Stiles freezes.

"And was it, before or after _that_?" His dad demands, grabbing Stiles's wrist and making him wince in pain. It was still bruised from Derek's fingers when he pulled him into the circle of mountain ash. "What about your head then? What happened to your f…frigging head, Stiles?" His father shouts.

Stiles looks down, holding his wrist to his chest. He can't look at his dad, he doesn't need to to know how angry and disappointed he is by his lies. He doesn't know what to say. He _can't_ say anything. Not yet.

He hears Mrs. McCall trying to calm his father and taking his place before the boy.

"Stiles," she calls out to him gently, but he can't look up. He can't look up and see his father's face. He can't. "Where did you get those bruises, Stiles?" He shakes his head, dismissively. "Your back is covered in them. I couldn't not tell your father, you know that, right?" He nods. He knows he's lucky it was Scott's mom that treated him, that she was working tonight. Anyone else would have probably called Social Services. God, why didn't he think of that before coming? Why does he never think of these things? "We're just worried about you, honey," He can feel tears burning in his eyes. He bites his cheek to try and force them back, make them disappear. "If someone is hurting you…"

"There's no one, I'm just clumsy, that's all." He repeats.

"You're not _that_ clumsy." His dad intervenes, voice softer, but trembling a little.

"There's burning around the cut on your side, Stiles. Only a firearm can make this kind of wound." Melissa confirms.

"It just…It was just a stupid accident, okay?" He insists, pleading them to believe him with his eyes. He wants to look down, can't stand the devastated look on his father's face, but he needs to convince them. "It was nothing. I promise. Nobody is hurting me, dad," He swears in half-truth.

"You were shot, Stiles. Those kinds of accidents don't just happen."

"It was nothing, dad. I swear it's not…I'm not in danger. I'm _okay_."

His father closes his eyes for a second before stepping in front of him.

"Then tell me. Who was it? What happened, Stiles? I don't…I feel like we barely talk those days. First, you dug out that body. Then you scratch Chris's car. And now, this? What is going on with you, son?"

He doesn't answer. He can't lie convincingly enough to persuade his father this has nothing to do with the Argent and werewolves. With freaking Derek Hale. Who's probably recruiting all of Stiles's friends into his club of Stiles's haters, right at this moment, by the way. Scott will probably be co-president with Derek with the way he is treating him these days.

His dad brought a hand to his cheek, wiping a tear and that just makes him want to cry harder.

"Is that about your mom?" He asks softly. "Do you want us to talk about this? I know seeing Derek Hale coming back to town mustn't have been easy…"

"It has nothing to do with him," He lies again, voice weak.

"Stiles…"

"Please, dad. Please, just let it go." He begs. The Sheriff shakes his head and Stiles continues reluctantly. "I don't want to talk about it, okay? I don't want to talk with _you_. Or with anyone. I just want to go home. I just want everybody to leave me the fuck alone," he rants, hating himself for saying that to his dad.

The Sheriff takes a step back, shaking his head again. He looks at him for a long moment, but Stiles avoids his eyes, looking at the far wall, clenching his teeth.

"Okay. If that's what you want. I still have to go and write a report of those injuries for the hospital. So as soon as you're finished getting your sling, I'll ask Deputy Charles to drive you home. You're grounded, so I expect you to stay there until further notice, is that clear?" he announces severely.

Stiles acquiesces, wiping at another tear angrily with his sleeve.

"All right then," his dad concludes, disappointed. He sighs and looks at him for a few more seconds before leaving the room, followed closely by Mrs. McCall.

He's so exhausted, physically as much as emotionally, that he sleeps until late the next afternoon.

When he wakes up, his dad isn't home. There's no note, no email, no "get better" text message and no missed call from anyone. He opens his fridge and finds that the turkey sandwich and tomato soup that his dad always leaves him for lunch when he's home sick aren't there either.

He doesn't feel like eating anything, but he can't remember the last time he actually ate, isn't even sure it happened during those last twenty hours or so, so he forces himself to munch on some dry cereal before taking his Adderall and the painkiller for his sprained shoulder.

He takes a shower, staying longer than usual under the warm water, as it seemed to relax his tense muscles. He feels like his whole body hurt.

It's already getting dark outside when he steps up into the attic. He remembers that his dad never fixed the broken bulb in there and goes back to find a flashlight. He sits in front of a pile of crates and just looks at them for a while.

He and his dad only kept a few meaningful objects of his mother each, her clothes were given to the Salvation Army and the rest was put into these three crates. He never looked inside them. When he was little, the scars were still too fresh for him to want to open them up by coming up here. They were still his mom's things and a little voice in his head was telling him that she wouldn't want him to rummage through them.

Later, he became too scared that he would open those boxes and not recognize anything inside of it. He was too scared to realize how much of her he has forgotten.

At first, there were just those three boxes in the attic, but as the years passed, the Stilinski boys would add more and more things in there. A lamp that was so girly that it kept reminding them that there wasn't a feminine presence anymore in the house. The bright orange sweater that she hand-knitted for her son because it was supposed to bring out his eyes, but ended up being too small and making him look like a pumpkin. A comb that had slipped under the bathroom counter, they had found it months later and couldn't throw it away. A pillow that had stopped smelling like her. A pasta and glue horror that Stiles tried to turn into a jewel box, her last Mother's Day gift.

Everything in here was hers, everything is a reminder of her, but it is also a reminder of the Sheriff and his son's pain. Of how they couldn't deal with so many things that they just literally hid them away so they wouldn't have to deal with the pain of losing their loved one anymore, of being reminded of a time when she was still there. It never worked, they could put the whole house in there and it would still hurt so damn much. But they kept doing it, kept pretending that if they put a few knick-knacks in there and double-locked the door, the pain it caused would stay there too.

The Stilinski men were big fan of just ignoring the problem until eventually it just went away, hoping it wouldn't come back later to bite them in the ass.

Now sitting in the middle of all those reminders, Stiles thinks bitterly about how that's maybe his place too.

He wipes his tears on the sleeve of his hoodie and grabs the first box. He can't ignore these any longer. His mother had secrets that he couldn't ignore anymore. He needs to discover what she was really doing at the Hale house the day she died. He needs to know, he needs to understand _why_ she died that night.

He spends hours searching through the boxes. As he feared, there are a lot of things in there that he feels like he has never seen, that he totally forgot. But sometimes, he would dig out an object that would bring up a memory. Sometimes he is reminded of a whole day at the beach, at the fair, gardening or even just lazing around the house, his mom wearing those old Tom & Jerry slippers.

Sometimes it just brings up an image, a sound, an odor. His mom.

How could he have forgotten those Russian dolls that he used to tirelessly play with as his mom would…he blinks. What was his mom doing? He can't remember that part. He can see himself as a toddler, playing on the ground with the dolls, pulling them all out, aligning them and then replacing them all in the biggest one, he can hear his mom asking him not to lose the tiniest one, every single time. He would always lose it anyway and his mom would end up on all fours trying to find it. He used to hide it behind his back sometimes, just to tease her. She loved those dolls, and so did he. When he would ask her how she got them, she would tell him a tale about a Russian mobster or a little girl that sold matches or, once, how they were actually real people that an evil queen cursed into being those dolls forever – this story freaked out Stiles so much that he used to wake up crying at night, having dreamt that he was changed into the tiny doll.

Now sitting on the attic ground, he unfastens them slowly, delicately, one by one, savoring the memories coming back to him. He aligns them on the ground as he used to do, from the biggest to the tiniest. He smiles, nostalgic, and admires them for a long moment, rolling the tiniest doll between his fingers. He leaves the dolls there, next to him, as he goes back to his research.

The last box contains photo albums, another thing he and his father avoided looking at. They each kept their favorite pictures of Lisa. There are a few family photos and some of Stiles's baby pictures on the wall, but they barely see those anymore, they became a part of the decor with time. They would never take those pictures down, but they never dared search for more of them either.

He looks at the pictures of his parents' wedding, then his birth and _way _too many pictures of him naked in the next three albums. He has been hyperactive since he was two – officially diagnosed as ADHD-C at five - and for a few years he considered putting on clothes as a waste of time. He would just jump out of the bath and ran around the house butt naked until his dad managed to catch him. And, well, he isn't proud of his nudist exploit, but he used to have a thing against bathing suits too, so until he was like six – oh my god _six_ – a day at the beach or the swimming pool would soon turn into little Stiles's exhibitionism parade.

Wow, he hadn't mind forgetting about _that_.

He's still chuckling a little, embarrassed at his own little self, when he puts the album down to look at the next one. He lets it fall open on his lap, expecting to see another humiliating photo of himself when suddenly Derek frigging Hale is looking right back at him from the album. His breath stops in the middle of his throat, making him cough and gasp. The album is open in the middle page and right there on the center picture Derek is frozen, smiling at the camera. He's only a little kid, not more than five or six years old, but there's no doubt about his identity.

Little Derek Hale is sitting on his mother's fucking lap.

Stiles closes the album brutally, closing his eyes and concentrating on his breath, trying to slow down his heart that is beating so fast that it's making his whole body shake in shock. But he can't, he can't calm down. He doesn't understand, he _needs_ to.

He bites his lip and opens the first page of the album slowly, not sure of what he's going to see. The pictures on the front page seem really old, the image grainy and a little blurred. On the first picture, four kids are standing in a garden, two girls and two boys. He recognizes his mother on the far right. She's one of the youngest and she's wearing white shorts and a pink tank top. She's holding a red balloon under one arm while the other one is around the shoulder of another girl that looks about the same age. Stiles has no idea who the other kids are, but as he looks at that girl with black curly hair and light eyes, he can't help but feel some kind of tingling at the back of his mind, like an idea that doesn't dare come forth yet. There are a few other pictures of his mom with those kids, mostly with the other little girl –'Naomi' is written on top of one - as they grow up a little more from picture to picture.

He stops at a photo from his mom's prom, looking closer. His mom is wearing a way too fluffy bright yellow dress, her chestnut hair in one of those ridiculous hairdos from the end of the 80s. Next to her, a boy has one arm around her waist and is smiling smugly at the camera. Stiles squints, the tingling increasing in the back of his mind. It's one of the boys from the first picture, he's sure of it, but he recognizes him beyond that. That smile, those blue eyes, that jaw-li…Stiles gasps when suddenly Peter Hale's face comes forth to the front of his mind. He's at least twenty years younger, but now that he's thought about it, Stiles is sure it's him. The alpha was his mom's date for prom. Peter fucking Hale used to date _his mom_.

He ignores the way air is suddenly missing from the room, turning page after page, scanning pic after pic with his eyes. Peter, Lisa and the other two at the beach, in an old car, at fucking _Disneyworld _for god's sake.

As the photos go on, the other man starts to appear familiar to Stiles too. He has brown hair, hazel eyes hidden under ample eyebrows and dimple at the corner of his smile. Stiles frowns, his first thought was that Peter and this guy must have been Naomi's brothers, but it looks like that guy started _dating_ Naomi at some point, which was very confusing until Stiles sees a picture of Naomi and his mom holding their bachelor's degree. He squints at the girl's and notices that her family name wasn't Hale, which is a huge relief. His mother being friends with werewolves is shocking enough without a touch of incest to it. Hell, his mother having dated _Peter Hale_ will probably give him some kind of PTSD for the rest of his life.

The four look happy for a few more pictures until suddenly Peter is in less and less of them, not hugging or kissing his mom anymore – thank god for _that_.

There's a picture of his mom and the other girl, in their early twenties, maybe very late teens. They're sitting Indian style on the ground, looking at magazines. Naomi isn't smiling like in the other pictures; she looks paler, tired, and less relaxed than usual. Next to her, his mom is smiling widely; pointing at what Stiles suddenly realizes is her friend's slightly round stomach.

It looks like it's the last picture that was taken of his mom with the Hales for a while after that because in the next one, his mom is a little older.

Her hair is very short, in the hairstyle she adopted while she was pregnant with him because she couldn't stand the warm summer under her usual long hair. She kept it like that for a couple years, until Stiles got out of his grabby hands phase and she could let her hair grow out without having to worry about her son scalping her, one lock of hair at a time.

In the picture, she's kneeling next to a little girl with brown hair as the kid draws. One of her arms is hugging a little boy that's trying to climb onto her back.

Stiles turns the page and there it is again. The picture of that same little boy, that he recognized as five year old Derek, sitting up in his mother's lap, smiling as Lisa's arms are around him and her lips kissing the top of his head.

It's only when a tear falls on the next picture that Stiles realizes he's crying.

His mom is sitting in the same chair, that picture probably having been taken the same day. Now that Derek is not on her lap anymore, Stiles can see that she was pregnant at the time, probably more than six months along from the size of her belly. Little Derek is kneeling in front of her, one hand on each side of her belly and his ear against it as if listening in. One of Lisa's hands is in his hair, the other one is behind a little girl standing next to her. The girl is smiling widely, exposing proudly her two missing front teeth. Behind his mom, Naomi is standing with a hand on her shoulder and a curly haired toddler in her arms.

It looks like a family photo. Like a family album.

But if this was it, if his mother was like family to the Hales, why did neither his father nor he know them?

He goes through the rest of the album, looking with surprise at the few pictures of toddler him with those people. There's even one or two where Derek is _holding him_ for god's sake, so how doesn't he know that? Why? He notices that there is no picture of his father, though. Or of anyone else for that matter. There's a few with what looks to be Peter's parents that seemed to live in the same house – Stiles knows they died in that house too- a few couple shots of Naomi and her husband, another couple that Stiles identified as Jake Hale, Peter's much older brother, and his wife, and even some where Peter would appear, sometimes with a girlfriend, never the same one twice.

Stiles closes the album and brings his knees to his chest. Peter and Derek were telling the truth. They knew Stiles's mother. And from what it looked like, they may have known her better than Stiles.

How could she have hid this? Why?

She must have known about werewolves, there was no way she had spent her whole life with those people and never knew what they really were. She knew about werewolves, she was friend with werewolves, family. She was _pack_, Stiles realizes.

His mom was part of the Hale pack. That's why she died. She wasn't kidnapped, she was there voluntarily. Kate must have lied. Kate…Stiles closes his eyes when the truth comes to him and this time, he can't avoid the panic attack that comes to him.

The Hales didn't kill his mom.

_Kate_ did.


End file.
